


Shawcross Park: Book One

by Niler



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-09 17:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 67,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niler/pseuds/Niler
Summary: Liam isn't a singer, a dancer or even a builder.Zayn is one of the above.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be working on the final part of the Punch Trilogy (Moving), but I got caught up in something new.  
> I planned to make this a short story, but that's not what it is, so there ya go...
> 
> (Thanks to my girl, Immi, for the inspiration)

Shawcross Park

 

 

  
  
  
  
The first time he sees him, Loki’s at his feet, tail wagging, having his ears rubbed.

  
Liam stands there, paralyzed, no idea what to do, where to look.

  
Where he definitely won’t be looking is anywhere but those hands, hands right now buried in his dog’s fur.

  
He is mortified and finds himself silently cursing Loki, something he has never, ever done.

  
 There hasn’t been a moment, not even a second when he’s felt anything but overwhelming love for his dog, but today…

  
And it’s unfair; he knows it is.

  
Loki’s being the Loki he knows and adores.

  
Not his fault he has no idea what he’s done.

  
He calls Loki, still not meeting his eyes, praying Loki will come, that he'll be able to escape without any further incident.

  
And Loki does – he comes as soon as Liam calls, bounding up to him, happy as anything, ready to play.

  
Liam hooks the lead to his collar and turns without acknowledging the three, no four, men standing watching them.

  
He feels so humiliated, and though he knows it’s stupid, that he’s stupid, he can’t help the way he feels.

  
He wants to look back, needs to, but that’s not happening.

  
He has no intention of compounding the humiliation.

  
Not even…

  
No, not even then.

  
Not that that is anything but a stupid, brainless pipe dream.

  
He takes his dog and hurries away.  
  
  
**  
  
He knows he overthinks things.

  
How could he not know, not like he hasn't been told that much since he was 5 years old and finally understood the impulse behind the somewhat condescending if loving tones of slight disapproval.

  
People have always perceived him a certain way – a good guy, but not the type you actually want to hang around with, not the type you’d regard as cool.

  
Cool applied to him is laughable, always has been, and after years of trying to change that he’s finally settled on deciding to be somewhat happy in his own uncool skin.

  
But the past cannot be erased and the scars left by all those years of wearing other people’s perception are still there, ready to surprise and dismay him just when he least expects it.

  
He definitely hadn't been expecting it today.

  
Well, how could anyone have expected that?

  
It’s like the Gods decided to demonstrate to him, for him, just how very, very unfavoured he actually is.

  
Anyone else would have done it differently.

  
Anyone else would have come out of that with something positive to show.

  
The fact that he came out of it with nothing but the extremes of humiliating failure simply proved that he was beyond uncool; he was actually fucking hopeless, pathetic and utterly unworthy of anything…

  
Loki’s in the corner, sleeping.

  
Liam stares sightlessly at him, replaying the scene in his mind.

  
The thing is they rarely go to that side of the park.

  
It’s the posh side as he sees it and though it’s not off-limits, he doesn’t exactly like the calibre of people who tend to frequent it.

  
Not saying they’re up themselves wankers with equally ill-mannered pets, but yeah…

  
It feels different; like the very air configures itself to the dictates of people accustomed to believing they do indeed breathe a different combination of oxygen and hydrogen to the hoi polloi.

  
And he’s never felt great there – stifled and on edge, the exact opposite of the way he feels in the other parts of the park, the exact opposite reason he visits the park in the first place.

  
He doesn’t know if the rich bastards feel it, but he suspects that they’re all so insensitive they’ve long since lost the habit of feeling anything real anyway.

  
But he doesn’t see him that way – wouldn’t bother if he did. He knows where he came from and is pretty confident he’s still real.

  
He may be rich, may even live in that part of the town (although Liam knows he doesn’t, doesn’t live in the town at all), but he isn’t one of those. Liam’s certain of it.

  
Maybe that might even be the problem, why he’d felt so strangled when Loki did what he did. Had he been one of the other types of rich bastards he’d have been fine going up and interacting, wouldn’t have fucking cared.

  
Sighing, he takes a sip of lager, hating himself for medicating at the first sign of anxiety, but he hasn’t quite got to grips with all the things that put pressure on his newly formed sense of self, and has had to learn to keep forgiving himself for that.

  
He wishes he could call someone, talk to someone about this, someone who’ll understand, who won’t silently be thinking: ‘Oh here we go again. Thought he was over all that crap.’

  
There’s no-one, no-one he feels comfortable talking to anyway.

  
His mum and his sisters love him, and support him, but they don’t get it.

  
His dad definitely doesn’t, and as for Matt… Well, to be brutally frank, Matt’s a dead loss. His best friend, yes, but Liam often wonders if that’s not just habit and can’t-be-arsed-to-try-something – someone – new on both their parts.

  
Their friendship has definitely become a habit and that’s hardly a surprise at this stage – most of the things in his life are borne of habit and status quo and can’t-be-arsed.

  
No wonder he can’t accommodate this new thing in the tiny space in his head given over to creating his best life.

  
He frankly doesn’t truly believe he will ever achieve that and honestly regards his infrequent forays into the try something different and new jungle as conceit, pretence, a joke, something to keep him thinking he’s going to change when deep down he knows damn well he never will, hasn’t the guts to.

And he hates being like this, thinking like this, so caught up in all the things that are wrong with him he hardly has room to breathe, let alone think.

  
It’s never done him any good and it’s for sure not doing him any good now.

  
So what if he made a fool of himself?

  
So what if he’d had an opportunity to make an impression – a good impression – and had blown it?

  
So what? Didn’t change anything. Not like he’d even accommodated the possibility in his head, so did it really matter that he’d failed so spectacularly?

  
Why spend time brooding over something so ephemeral, so irrelevant?

  
He had to, just had to stop being that guy (the guy he’d been trying so hard to leave behind), and wake up to the real world, to what was important now - in the real world.

  
Not like he’d spent even a minute thinking about him once he’d stopped patting Loki.

  
Everyone knew he was a big animal lover – he’d never be able to resist a dog - and that had been the only reason Liam had even come into his orbit at all.

  
More likely than not he’d not even bloody well noticed him, all his attention on Liam’s beautiful dog.

  
He glanced over at Loki who was still peacefully sleeping.

  
If only he knew, only he had any awareness at all of the mess his master had got himself into…

  
Dogs had it so damn easy.

  
  
**  
  
Liam's been thinking about him for years.

  
Course he has, he's a fan, a big fan.

  
It’s just that he tends to keep to himself the shameful secret of his partiality.

  
He has guy fans but they admire him, admire his _style_ , his talent. Unlikely that many of these guy fans (the ones openly admitting to being fans anyway) feel anything but admiration. Unlikely any of them dream about him, fantasise about him, in the way he does anyway.

  
Of course he knows he isn't the only guy who thinks of him that way, but how the fuck does that help? The guy's straight, a superstar, has the capacity to have any woman he wants…

  
Yes, he's bright enough to be aware that men would be attracted to him too and Liam can tell that wouldn’t bother him the way it seems to bother so many other male stars.

  
But again, so what?

  
Not minding men being sexually attracted to you didn’t mean a damn thing in the grand scheme of things. Didn't mean you were open to anything, and even if you were, you certainly wouldn't be open to anything from some nonentity who didn't even have the guts to face an audition in case he found out just how crap he really was...

  
The fact that Zayn Malik had the guts to put himself out there, despite his race, despite his religion, despite his background said it all, really. What it definitely said was that he wouldn't be interested in anyone too cowardly to even try.

  
And it couldn't be argued that Liam had a few more advantages than Zayn had had when he'd started out.

  
He makes no secret of his toughness, his integrity, his strength of mind, and obviously he surrounds himself with people of a similar bent. Wouldn't be up for hanging with cowardly shits like him.

  
But the shock of it, the shock of meeting him like that, when he hadn't been prepared.

  
Now, _that_ hadn't been fair.

  
He should have had time to prepare, time to find a way to impress him...

  
No, hand on heart he could sincerely say that he didn't even want anything from him, wanted _only_ to make an impression - a good one.

   
And now that opportunity (once in a lifetime opportunity) had gone to waste.

  
He is _so_ pathetic.

  
  
**  
  
Matt's calling, but Liam isn't in the mood. He'll want to go out, pick something up from the club, and Liam is definitely not in the mood for that.

  
He's had time to calm down a little, reflect on the experience, savour it a bit.

  
He hadn't even thought about the ramifications, the connotations, the sheer fucking thrill of meeting his idol, of being mere inches away from him - at first.

  
But he's thinking about it now.

  
The shock of seeing him, well it hadn't just been the _fact_ of his presence, it had also been the sheer force of his presence too.

  
He's beautiful.

  
No, he'd already known that, but that was when he'd only seen him from a distance (Liam had never quite had the balls to front up to one of his concerts, not with the overwhelmingly female audience to make him stand out like a sore thumb), only seen him on the screen, on the cover of magazines.

  
In the flesh, he's stunning, his charisma almost a living thing, so strong, so physical it's near overwhelming.

  
And yes, Liam had been overwhelmed.

  
Granted, he can't say for sure that had he not been so overwhelmed he'd have presented himself in a much better light, but he'll never know given just how overwhelmed he'd actually been.

  
His hair had been different.

  
Not that big a surprise - he's constantly altering his hair.

  
Liam's often thought of it as Zayn's canvas, the space where he feels most comfortable experimenting.

  
Liam admires him for this.

  
He's made so many mistakes with his own hair styling that he's literally scared to alter his style, scared of the comments he'll attract, scared that the compromise he's come to with his hair and face - making a configuration that works - will dissolve and he'll forever be left as the plain, untalented idiot he's always been.

  
See, Zayn's one of those people who look good no matter what, so changing his style presents no trauma or need for teeth gritting courage.

  
Liam honestly envies him this. If only he could get to that place himself, so confident in his looks, his appeal, he wouldn't need externals to comfort him, reassure him.

  
Well, no point dwelling on what would never be - Zayn's Zayn and he's...him.  
  
And maybe, maybe he should go out on the town - that's always worked in the past when he got too caught up in wanting Zayn, wanting something he knows fuck well he can never have.

  
Getting to grips with something you could have definitely works, even if only for a little while.

  
So, sighing, he picks up the phone and returns Matt's call.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

The first thing he’s aware of is heat.

 

He has a thing about heat when he’s sleeping; doesn’t like it.

 

It’s always been this way for as long as he can remember, getting scolded by his mum for always throwing off the bedclothes, howling in frustration because it was always too damn hot.

 

He’s sure his mum thought he was baying for attention, trying to ‘be special’.

 

But he wasn’t.

 

He hated being different, hated drawing attention to himself.

 

He just couldn’t abide that feeling of suffocating, that feeling of drowning in heat - dry heat, wet heat, always heat.

 

And of course when he shared the bed with someone else, it just got that much worse.

 

Turning his head carefully, heart racing, he examines what he finds.

 

Nice shoulders and back - even in the dim light the light tan of healthy skin apparent, the gentle even rise and fall of his breathing almost soothingly hypnotic.

 

But the heat rising from him is just as apparent, and liam frowns, moves away.

 

He remembers him now, of course.

 

Bryan.

 

The name sat uneasily on his good looking, go getting form, but that had been a momentary blip in Liam’s breathless appraisal.

 

He just couldn’t quite believe the evidence of his own eyes, his own senses - this guy was interested in him.

 

Really interested.

 

No, it wasn’t like he only ever attracted dogs, or moderately okay, not entirely munted individuals, but this guy had made a beeline for him and even after engaging him in  _ conversation  _ had remained interested, had even seemed to become even more interested.

 

Now,  _ that _ , he couldn’t really understand.

 

He wasn’t clever, witty or in any way interesting, so why the guy had still been interested, he has no idea.

 

He turns to look at him again, recalling, as he does, the sex.

 

Well, that had been interesting alright.

 

He definitely hadn’t been expecting it to go down that way at all.

 

And okay, at the time, at the time he hadn’t really had the focus to wonder about that, but now, in the cold light of day, he was wondering alright…

 

And now, now he was wondering, he realises that he’s not going to leave as he’d planned.

 

No, he’ll do what he never does - stay and see if this might become more than an interesting and intense one night stand.

 

Well, so long as he can stand the heat for that long…

  
  


**

 

Loki’s very aware of his moods, and he’s frisky, now, because he can sense Liam smiling on the inside.

 

On the inside because he doesn’t want to discuss anything with anyone and smiling for no reason, in public, generally attracts commentary, or suspicious, maybe even downright worried glances.

 

He’s smiling because he’s happy.

 

So weird to admit that, even to himself.

 

His love life has been a series of disasters - when he even has one to speak of - and really and truly he probably shouldn’t even allow himself to feel this uncommon emotion, but you can’t help what you feel, can you?

 

It’s been a week and he’s been happy every single day.

 

That is unheard of.

 

Especially considering who Bryan is, how he is, how he seems.

 

He isn’t exactly different from how he seems - someone who wouldn’t give him the time of day, someone on an entirely different plane. 

 

It’s just that he seems to be stuck on Liam - for whatever reason - and has made room for him in his world.

 

Liam has stopped himself from looking for the catch, looking for the first signs of impending disaster, not because he’s fundamentally changed his worldview, but because he figures that for once he’ll enjoy the good things while they’re there, knowing, of course, that they won’t be for long.

 

Bryan’s one of the good things and for now he’s enjoying him.

 

*

 

Loki’s running and Liam’s laughing, watching his excited form, but comes to a brief, involuntary halt when he sees where he’s headed.

 

Even from a distance he recognises Zayn Malik, not just because of the obvious (to him anyway) bodyguards, but well, because it’s Zayn and not even a baseball cap and nondescript clothing can hide who he is.

 

Liam has to stop himself shouting Loki, commanding his return.

 

For one he’d draw attention to himself and for another it’s unlikely Loki would take a blind bit of notice.

 

He’s a good dog, but headstrong and addicted to attention, loving attention, even from (relative) strangers, so he’s very unlikely to pass up the chance to get some of that from Zayn Malik.

 

Liam’s tempted to turn around, walk away, knowing Loki will seek him out sooner or later, wait for his dog to find him.

 

Every ounce of happiness he’s been feeling for the past week has dissolved, melted away by the crippling wave of anxiety flooding his system, drowning him.

 

He doesn’t even pretend to understand this.

 

He honestly (if he’d given it any thought) would have expected the attention from Bryan, what he’s found in and with Bryan to at least nullify this...thing.

 

Zayn’s not even real, well not a real prospect of anything even as simple and straightforward as polite acquaintanceship, so he should feel differently about all this, should be handling this completely differently.

 

What the fuck is wrong with him?

 

He stands there, watching, waiting to see what Zayn will do once Loki reaches him, but it’s obvious, because Zayn’s dropped to his knees, inviting Loki to bound on him, drown in his willing affection.

 

His smile lights up his entire face and once again his attention is all for Liam’s dog while Liam is summarily... dismissed.


	3. Chapter 3

He knows it’s the wrong impulse, definitely one he should ignore, but there’s a fire within him, a flame of indignant hurt and he’s ignoring the voice inside that tells him to calm the fuck down, take a moment to think.

He calls to Loki, calls him home, studiously avoiding making eye contact with Zayn the way he did the last time, the way he’s become expert at doing over the years.

If avoiding eye contact should ever become an Olympic sport he’s confident he’d be the first gold medallist on record.

Loki hears him, turns, tail wagging and calls him over.

There’s no other way to interpret that.

Liam is used to reading his dog, just as Loki’s used to reading him and he knows this set of behavioural cues means: look what I found. It’s exciting. Come share it with me!

Gritting his teeth he calls him again, louder, with increased authority in his tone, hoping against hope that Loki will, for once, be obedient, ignore the urge to make a show of him in front of strangers.

Loki thinks about it, looks from Liam to Zayn and back, wags his tail harder and doesn’t move, encouraging Zayn’s continued petting which he quite shamelessly soaks up.

Liam, sure everyone’s silently laughing at him, does his best to find his cool, mind racing as he tries to formulate a way to control the next few minutes, planning how it’ll pan out, how in ten minutes time he’ll be on his way home, dog on leash, dignity intact.

The bodyguards are watching him like hawks and he tries not to notice, not to let the anxiety overwhelm him, but he’s overmatched by the situation and he knows he’s red in the face and probably trembling as he approaches, his confident cadence belying the turmoil inside.

He fixes his gaze on his dog who’s getting more and more excited by the knowledge that his master is at long last going to share in the new toy he’s found…

“What’s his name?”

Zayn’s question is so unexpected he finds himself answering without thinking, the startlement cutting through all the careful defences he’d erected.

“Loki.” He’s still refusing to meet Zayn’s eye, his own eyes blinking nervously as he tries to still his racing heart and slow his panting breath.

Zayn’s laugh is like a tinkle of cool water on a scorching hot day and Liam steals a glance. 

He’s not looking Liam’s way, still focused on Loki and Liam sees that he’s shaved.

It’s been some time since Liam saw him without a growth of facial hair and he’ so startled by the effect that he frowns in surprise, finds himself staring.

And of course that’s the moment Zayn chooses to look up and meet his eye.

It’s like being punched hard in the gut - and he should know, he’s experienced that more than once - and this experience is no more pleasant than any of the other times.

If anything it’s worse because a fist you can defend against.

Liam isn’t sure how anyone’s supposed to defend against whatever the fuck this is.

He notices Zayn’s adam’s apple move as he swallows, but then he’s looking away, smiling down at Loki.

“It’s a good name, but does it fit?” he’s grinning at Liam’s dog, rubbing his ears. “He seems like a good dog to me. You are, aren’t you? You’re a good dog.”

“Well, he isn’t always.” Like whenever you’re around for instance.

“Comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” His accent is still so strong. This always surprises Liam. Zayn’s been all over the world, lived in America for nearly 10 years and yet there’s been discernible effect on his accent at all.

“Like all dogs misbehave you mean?” He wants to get down on the ground and pat Loki too, but that would somehow be too familiar, too presumptuous.

It’s his dog, but Zayn’s personal space and this, after all, is Zayn Malik - _ the _ Zayn Malik.

How the fuck does he have the nerve to even engage him in conversation, like he’s just an ordinary guy or something?

Zayn smiles, sort of looks at him, without quite meeting his eyes. “Yeah, like that. Can’t blame them for wanting to do their own thing, can we? Our rules are pretty arbitrary and mean fuck all to them. Isn’t that right, boy?”

Liam, watching them, experiences a moment of disorientation, as if he’s inadvertently landed on some parallel Earth or something.

Is he really stood here talking about dogs with Zayn Malik?

It’s small talk, but really not.

He doesn’t believe Zayn’s capable of small talk…

“I think they’ve adjusted to us, though. I think they tolerate us cos they figure we’re the ones who need  _ them _ , and they’re sorta being kind.” The minute he says it he curses himself. Now the guy’s gonna think he’s an idiot, some kind of kook.

Zayn looks up, fixes him to the spot with that look.

It feels like hours pass as they stare into each other’s eyes.

Then Loki saves the day by barking excitedly, crossing the short distance to Liam, demanding to be petted.

Zayn’s tinkling laugh brings a corresponding smile to Liam's face.  “I’ll tell you what he is though.”

Liam grins. “Spoilt.”

Zayn laughs again. “Yeah.”

They stay there for a short while, Liam granting Loki the attention he demands, Zayn watching.

Then things become awkward as Liam starts to overthink, wondering if it’s up to him to save Zayn the embarrassment of ending the encounter (trying to do it without seeming rude); if he needs to be the one to make it clear that one conversation doesn’t necessarily denote anything except a chance, relatively pleasant encounter.

It becomes awkward - to him - because he’s doing Zayn’s thinking as well as his own.

He knows it’s one of his biggest failings and never leads to anything positive (according to his sisters), but it’s also his biggest defence mechanism and means of control.

If you anticipate all the possible scenarios then you’ll be prepared and won't be caught short when any one of them arises.

So he quickly scouts through all the possible things Zayn’s thinking right now and comes up with the most likely, goes with that.

“We’d best be off - got a casserole in the oven - and I’m not the world’s best cook so…” He’s actually an excellent cook, but Zayn doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh what you cooking?”

“Er, lamb…”

“My favourite.”

“Really?” He’s on autopilot, definitely having  _ not _ scouted this scenario… “I’d invite you back for a bite-”

“Well, if you don’t mind…”

What? What’s happening? “Well, so long as you’re okay with a poky flat and an out of control dog, begging for scraps while you’re eating…” Was he fucking dreaming right now?

Zayn, smiling, gets to his feet, adjusts his clothing and says. “So long as it’s okay to give him a few scraps.”

“It’s okay.”

His heart is racing so hard, so fast he has no idea how he’s even standing upright, how he’s even still drawing breath. “It’s not far, just round the corner.” Just round the corner is actually at least a mile away and Zayn might not understand the shorthand version of distance he utilises.  Maybe he should…

“Great. Let’s go.”

Nonplussed, still in a daze, Liam silently turns, Loki at his side, Zayn on Loki’s other side and walks toward the main park gates.

Thank god he’s relentlessly tidy and didn’t leave the lounge a tip - nor the kitchen, nor the bathroom.

But what the fuck is he going to do with Zayn Malik, in his flat, for the next couple of hours?


	4. Chapter 4

He can’t help wondering about the bodyguards.

Zayn, as far as he’s aware, hasn’t given them instructions, hasn’t exchanged a single word, but they’ve fallen in behind them, are silently following along.

Doing their job without a word.

It feels so surreal and he briefly wonders how Zayn can appear so normal when it’s clear, from this alone, that he, or at least his life, the life he’s currently living is anything but.

He isn’t very good at maintaining silence, at being with someone and not engaging them in conversation.

Trouble with that is that he’s not particularly gifted at witty repartee either.

So, should he leave it to Zayn?

Funny that neither of them has, at any time thus far, acknowledged that Zayn’s a celebrity and Liam...isn’t.

But there are certain conventions that come with engaging with celebrities, surely.

For instance, showing them the proper deference by, for example, not fucking inviting them back to your very ordinary (if modern and well-maintained) flat for supper made from ingredients bought from the corner shop.

A nice corner shop, that does sell halal meat (thank god), but an essentially  _ ordinary _ shop all the same.

Zayn is surely accustomed to having his meals prepared by private chefs, ingredients sourced from the finest outlets available.

(Liam read an article several years before which said pretty much that very thing, and he has no reason to believe any of that has changed in the intervening years. If anything Zayn would have got even more used to that type of thing and more than likely extended it to other parts of his life).

So to start with he’s had the temerity to even approach him and then he’s compounded the insane cheek of it by inviting him to eat some very ordinary food, from ordinary bowls, in a very ordinary flat.

Oh and to top it all off, accompanied by a man who’d make George bush look like a sparklingly witty raconteur.

So he’s not feeling at all confident with Zayn silent at his side, eyes fixed to some distant point ahead of him, very much keeping his own counsel.

There is no question in Liam’s mind that Zayn is now starting to regret his impulsive response to what had been a valiant  attempt to take his leave in the politest way possible.

He blames Loki.

Had Zayn not been so entranced by Loki his thought processing would have been unhampered by said entrancement, which would in turn have made him recognise that Loki’s  _ master _ was the polar opposite of entrancing.

As if to acknowledge that he was indeed at fault Loki looks up at him and when he has his attention, licks his hand.

Liam silently shakes his head, knowing that Loki has no clue what he’s let his master in for.

This is a hundred times worse than any transgression he’s previously committed.

He has absolutely no idea…

 

**

 

“Er, are they com-?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Zayn smiles briefly, but it’s not a genuine smile and seeing this, Liam feels his chest tighten.

Oh god, he wants to get away and doesn’t know how to say it.

Should  _ he _ say it, make some excuse to allow Zayn to make _ his _ excuse?

Of course he’d make it seem like  _ his _ idea, not give any indication he’d caught on to Zayn’s discomfort and consequent urge to flee.

But he’s so bad at this, so bad at ‘acting’ he knows fuck well his attempt would be awkward as fuck, would probably force Zayn to somehow extend an invitation to  _ his _ home or something.

That’s how damn pathetic he is.

“Okay, but I don’t mind.” Stop talking. He can see the words in Zayn’s eyes and wants to sink through the floor, but in the end all Zayn does is smile again, looking... expectant.

Yeah, of course, he’s used to getting his way, used to people divining his every wish without the need for words.

Is that how the next half hour’s going to be? (he’s decided that that’s how long Zayn will give him before trying to escape) Zayn expecting and him falling short?

Well, if that’s what’s coming best to just get to it then.

“I live on the top floor, but it’s not a massive block, so it shouldn’t be that bad,” he lies.

Is Zayn fit? He looks fit, but he’s a smoker (or has been in the past - been a while since there were any new articles about him) and doesn’t look like he’d appreciate walking up 3 flights of stairs for no good reason.

“No problem.” Still looking expectant, still wearing the smile  Liam’s definitely seen before and definitely recognises as fake.

Why did he agree to this?

Surely Zayn can’t be as impetuous and socially inept as he is.

For some reason this thought inspires in him the faintest glimmer of confidence.

If even  _ Zayn _ gets himself into stupid situations, then, well maybe he’s not so pathetic after all.

And maybe this might even give him a chance to practice his non existent (according to his sisters) social skills.

“Great. And I’ve got a really comfy sofa if you need to sit down after.”

“What, you live at the top of Everest or something?” The smile is becoming a little less strained.

Liam shrugs, keys open the door. “There are days when it definitely feels that way.”

 

**

 

Zayn isn’t particularly unfit, but his daily exercise routine surely doesn’t involve steep stairs and what feels like flirting with some parallel universe in which physics bears no relation to the physics commonly found in the real world where 3 flights  _ doesn’t _ feel like a trip up some never ending mountain.

People stay in their apartments for fear of returning home and never making it back to their flat.

Liam knows this because he’s seen it with his own eyes, the way neighbours, after the first few days, rarely make excursions unless absolutely necessary.

He swears he’s even seen one neighbour don gym clothes and make climbing the stairs his thrice weekly routine rather than lifting weights at the gym.

It certainly saves on gym fees.

Of course no-one says a word about the rigour of stair climbing.

Of course not - all his neighbours are blokes…

“Here we are, mine’s the one at the end.”

He isn’t looking to get a reply from Zayn, doesn’t want him to have to attempt to speak when he feels like his heart’s gonna explode…

He’s kind.

All his family say so (the female members anyway).

So, being kind, he leads the way, opens the door to hsi flat, goes in, leaves the door open and heads to the kitchen.

Zayn can get there in his own time.

If he’s anything like Liam, once he gets there he’ll make an excuse to go to the bathroom.

“Alright if I use your...loo?” Zayn’s doing his best to look cool, control his breathing, and Liam has to say he’s not doing a bad job.

He should know, he’s had people crawling on their hand son knees through the door, breath running so fast and hard there’d be as much chance of catching it as Olivier Giroud catching Usain Bolt (with a 50 metre head start).

“Yeah, turn left and straight ahead.”

“Ta.” He heads to the bathroom, apparently holding his breath.

Liam nods to himself and goes about preparing their meal.

  
  


**

  
  


“Where’d you learn to cook this good?”

Zayn has  a good appetite. Liam doesn’t know why he thought he wouldn’t.

Well, it’s probably because he looks the type who’d be a fussy eater. Peck peck pecking at his food, pushing the food around his plate before reluctantly taking a tiny bite.

Okay, yeah, it’s likely cos Zayn reminds him of a bloke he used to go to college with - gay, campy skinny as fuck.

It’s not that Zayn looks gay or campy, or skinny as fuck, just that he physically resembles him (even though the other guy - Georgey - claimed to be Greek), and actually there’s just something about him, something... delicate.

Liam doesn’t even know what he means by that.

Looking at him tearing into the casserole one would be hard pressed to find  _ anything _ delicate about him.

Still…

“My mum - and sisters. I suppose. But I didn’t really know I could cook until I had to, had to do it for myself. I got fed up of spending money on take away and ready meals.”

Zayn nods in apparent understanding but is too busy scoffing hsi meal to waste words.

“I suppose you have everything cooked for you.”

Zayn spares him a look before returning his attention to the casserole. “What makes you say that?”

Liam has no idea how or why he’s so good at reading Zayn’s body language and verbal cues, but he can tell he’s said the wrong thing.

Why?

Everyone bloody knows celebrities don’t cook for themselves.

“Well, it’s just that if I could afford it I’d do that too.”

Again not raising his eyes, but inserting a little ice in his tone. “And what makes you automatically think I can afford it?”

Liam stares at him for a while, completely confused.

Where was this hostility coming from.

Why the fuck  _ wouldn’t _ he think that?

Zayn isn’t bankrupt, is well known for being careful and clever with his money.

He’s worth millions and Liam would stake his own fucking life on that.

So what the fuck?

“I just meant…” Oh. What the heck? Did Zayn think he thought he was just an  _ ordinary _ bloke? Did he think Liam didn’t know who he was?

Did he think Liam thought he had invited some random guy back to his place for dinner?

Oh.

_ Oh. _

His thoughts must have been written all over his face because when Zayn looks up, meets his startled stare, he puts his head to one side and asks a silent question...


	5. Chapter 5

If asked Liam would say his mum is the queen of cliches.

There is not a situation for which she won’t respond with some pithy saying, or to be less generous (and more accurate) some hackneyed phrase that really says very little.

Except, if honesty is still on the menu - she’s often bloody right.

Sometimes.

In some way.

Several ways.

He has no doubt that right now she’d say: “always expect the unexpected, son.” Or “don’t judge a book by its cover, sweetheart.” 

Oh yeah she’d be in her absolute element right now. 

Like a pig in muck, to coin one of her favourite sayings.

One thing his mum definitely has in common with his sisters is the need to always be right…

Preferably in response to something he’s said or done and even more preferably for something he’d said he never would.

She’d claim to have warned him not “to think you know what you don’t bloody know, love. Stop being so set in your ways.”

Coming from his mum, his  _ mum _ , the sentiment has always made him feel a sliver of discomfort, shame almost.

She’s in her fifties and he’s...not...so for her to be telling him to be less set in his ways…

But it’s not because he’s set in his ways, it’s because he needs to control his environment.

He doesn’t  _ want _ to expect the unexpected!

What the fuck are you supposed to do with the unexpected?

How the hell do you react off the cuff to some situation you bloody well should have legislated for?

People like his mum, just don’t get it.

You can't expect  _ any _ sympathy if you had the opportunity to work shit out before it happened, (work it out so you’d could figure a way to handle it), but didn’t, so the shit happened and you were left standing there looking like a right plonker.

Sitting there, mouth open looking like a bloody moron.

You couldn’t, after all, come right out and ask him what the fuck was going on, couldn’t openly, visibly question your very existence right there while he’s looking at you in that expectant way he has which by the way, for the record, is both intimidating and sexy as hell.

Zayn’s not going to break the silence.

In fact Zayn’s returned his attention to his stew, which yeah, Liam has to admit is one of his very best efforts, but still.

So…

So, Zayn expects him to... do what for fuck’s sake?

Is it Ok, since Zayn hasn’t said anything, has gone back to what he was doing before that...incident...to just act like nothing’s happened?

Well, what the fuck else is he going to do?

He has no fucking idea what  _ did, _ in fact, just happen.

His mum and sisters are all about intuition, all about ‘knowing’ stuff, but that’s crazy.

You can’t act on instinct.

Sure way to get your head beaten in.

Liam doesn’t know (though he has definitely spent a significant amount of time dwelling on the subject) whether it’s being attracted to other men that might make someone a touch paranoid about  _ not  _ acting on  _ possible _ signals, not acting on intuition but instead waiting on the clearest signal...

He has possibly truly overthought the subject into redundancy and possibly inaccuracy, but he does think that getting his head beaten after hitting on a straight guy - an unreasonably violently hair triggered one - has been a guiding principle in the way he conducts his social interaction.

And honestly? He can’t find a negative thing to say about that strategy.

Evidence his still intact head…

So, as far as he’s concerned, Zayn’s straight. 

All available evidence points to that fact, and since he’s come across absolutely no evidence to the contrary his ‘conclusions’ must, therefore, be inaccurate, which would also make his interpretation of Zayn’s ‘look’ equally shaky.

Breathing an internal sigh of relief he returns to his meal.

 

**

 

Zayn insists on washing up.

There was almost an embarrassing incident when Liam refused his help.

Zayn, used to getting his way - obviously -  simply looked at him; looked at him until Liam, blushing under Zayn’s unflinching scrutiny, caved, hastily showing him where everything was.

Liam decided (with an excess of internal congratulatory satisfaction) to resist the urge to tell Zayn his very specific preferences when it came to dish washing, drying etc.

He just wouldn’t look.

_ Try _ not to look...

“I used to do this for me mam all the time,” Zayn’s saying, putting way too much washing up liquid in the sink.

Liam struggles to find a position where he’ll be able to pay attention to Zayn, converse, yet somehow avoid truly seeing what he’s up to. “Oh did you? My mum used to force me out the kitchen most days.”

Zayn chuckles. “Mine did too - except for the washing up and putting the bin bags out side of things. Couldn’t raid the fridge or anything. Get me?”

Liam laughs, getting him all too well. Looked like some things were universal. “Why do they always think it’s  _ you _ eating the cupboard bare! You should see my sisters when they’re on a munch.”

“Mine too. And then the cheek of it was that in front of friends and relatives they’d probably nibble on half a slice of cucumber or sip some sugarless, milkless tea and keep going on about not being hungry!”

“Tell me about it.”

This is nice; he feels a nice companionship and connection with Zayn.

So long as he keeps his eyes somewhat averted and ignores his fastidious mind chattering to him…

“How many you got?”

“Sisters? Too many - two too many.”

Zayn laughs in appreciation and Liam feels an unexpected warmth at Zayn’s recognition of his wit. Most people really didn’t appreciate his sense of humour and attempts at witty repartee at all.

Maybe it’s easier with someone who hasn’t known you forever… “I got 3 and yeah it can feel like that at times.” He shrugs, puts the glass in the wrong place. “Wouldn’t be without them though. They’re alright.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, wondering if he should be as bothered by something as tiny as a glass in the wrong location as he is and has been.

Zayn does his thing a certain way - obviously - and it hasn’t done him any harm, so maybe…

“I do have a dishwasher, but I only use it when I’m feeling lazy.”

“Same.”

Yeah. Liam was very bloody surprised when Zayn insisted on washing up. He’d been fully intending to load everything in the dishwasher. Zayn,.after all, would expect that; used as he must be to not doing any of his own chores.

Actually, now he’s thinking about it, Zayn’s acting pretty weird; acting out of character.

And it is definitely still bothering him.

But since they’ve got over the awkwardness of earlier he’d be an idiot to bloody reintroduce it!

“Might be a weird question, but do you have any dogs? I mean I know, I mean I can see you like them, you’re good with them…” He glances reflexively at Loki, resting in the corner, happy to be doing his own thing after his overly indulgent meal.

“Used to, used to keep dogs all the time, but my last dog died and I haven’t had the heart to get another one.”

Liam tries to listen for quite what he isn’t sure; a cue that’ll tell him what to say in response.

Is he sad at the loss of his dog, still grieving or has he come to terms?

“Sorry, mate.” Shit.

He called him ‘mate’.

Rather than stupidly rushing to apologise, he just lets it hang, waits to see what Zayn will do with it.

“Thanks, but it was a while ago. I just don’t want to replace her and I haven’t met-” He breaks off, a little awkwardly, clearly reconsidering what he’d been about to say. He substitutes whatever that might have been with a casual shrug, which, in any language, means ‘change the subject’.

“I like a good game of Fifa to relax.” Liam laughs. “Well, to be honest, relax might be a bit of a stretch. I do get a bit passionate…”

Zayn turns to him, grinning in delight.

Anyone would think he’d just been handed an unexpected lifeline out of an awkward situation or something.

“Hope you’re a good loser,” he says sweetly.

 

**

 

Neither of them are good losers.

Zayn’s also a really bad winner.

Luckily he has fewer opportunities to practise being a bad winner.

Liam just squeaks the tournament, tries his best to remember that not only is Zayn a guest but he’s also Zayn, so just about manages to be gracious in victory.

Zayn refuses his handshake.

“Uh-uh I’ll beat you next time.” His eyes are glinting.

“Well, you could try, but maybe pick a better squad next time.” No, he is trying, but he never did pretend to be a saint.

Zayn’s look could freeze boiling water. “Do you think I could get better than Messi, Ronaldo, Iniesta-”

“Well, yeah, seeing as you lost - several times. What was the last score between Zed Rovers and Wolves? I forget… let me think. Oh yeah - 4-1. And to think Wolves started out in the championship… Who’d have thought they’d be able to get one over - twice - the mighty Zed Rovers!”

He is absolutely fucking certain Zayn is about to jump him, pummel him to the ground when his phone rings.

He recognises the ring tone - Bryan - and his insides freeze.

He doesn’t know what expression’s on his face, but it’s clear from Zayn’s face that he immediately guesses the nature of Liam’s relationship to the caller.

He backs off immediately - figuratively and literally, given that he’d been on the cusp of ‘assaulting’ him - looks at Liam expectantly, clearly expecting him to say:

“Excuse me, just gotta take this.”

“No problem,” he says. “I’d best get off to be honest.”

Liam wants to tell him no, but he has to take the call. “Hold on a minute. This won’t take long. I’ll walk you down.”

Zayn nods, makes a point of turning his attention to Loki, still chilling in the corner.

Heart beating absurdly hard, Liam goes into the hallway, answers the phone. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. You busy?”

“Erm…”

“Got some stuff. Come give me a hand bringing it up.”

Liam swallows. “Where are you?”

“What? Downstairs of course. Come on, my arms are about to fall off.”

“Okay, give me a sec.” He hangs up the phone, closes his eyes, taking the opportunity to gather a lungful of air. Slowly releases it, praying for clarity.

Now, he could make this stupidly on top when it needn’t be or he could handle it like the non issue it was and save everyone from awkwardness.

Taking another deep breath he opens the door.

Zayn’s got Loki in his lap, the look on his face almost beatific and Liam has a moment of regret that he’ll never witnes that again; that he’ll never see that look on Loki’s face again either.

“You ready? Friend of mine wants me to help bring some stuff upstairs.”

“No problem.” He ushers Loki to the floor, giving him a final indulgent hug then turns to liam. “Thanks for the casserole. It were great.”

“You’re welcome.” He wants to casually invite him to repeat the experience, but knows he can’t be that impetuous, that the situation definitely cannot accommodate impetuosity.

So he allows Zayn to precede him to the door, out the door, to the staircase, all the while trying to figure out what will happen when all three of them come face to face in a few minutes.

He has reason to expect Bryan to be jealous; he just hopes he won’t get the wrong idea and that if he was so inclined zayn’s status will let him see it differently to the way he might otherwise view Liam entertaining beautiful strangers in his flat.

As for Zayn, well Liam hopes he won’t be too shocked to discover that Bryan’s a bloke and all the conclusions to be derived from that fact.

He’s pretty sure Zayn isn’t homophobic, but he definitely knows you just can’t always tell when it comes to other people and their ability to surprise the fuck out of you.

Zayn passes no witty remark in reference to the ease of the journey downstairs.

Not that that should come as that much of a surprise - he hadn’t admitted the journey up the stairs was a killer so he’s not going to say anything now, is he?

It does, however, mean that the journey is a little tense, a touch awkward.

“What’s taking so long?” Bryan’s demanding as Liam finally reaches the landing. “You usually skip down them stairs like a -” He breaks off when he spots Zayn just behind Liam and well, there’s just no way to claim they aren’t together.

Unfortunately, something in the configuration of their movements, the tension between them... _ something _ ...gives an entirely inaccurate reading of the situation and he can see by the change in Bryan’s demeanour and increasingly hostile body language that he has got entirely the wrong end of the stick.

Liam stupidly compounds the error by rather than introducing Zayn, instead quickly turns to him to make a rather too hasty goodbye.

Zayn responds in kind, barely nodding in Bryan’s direction as he heads to the door  outside of which Liam sees one of his bodyguards patiently waiting.

A swift exchange then the guard points a little way down the road where Liam can see a sleek black car waiting.

Zayn spares him a swift, backward glance before allowing his bodyguard to lead him across the road.

Liam has no conscious awareness that he’s standing there watching Zayn’s progress until a hard punch painfully impacts his right arm.

“Who the fuck is that? And what the fuck were you doing with him in your flat?”


	6. Chapter 6

If left up to Bryan the neighbours would be treated to a show, a loud, cringeworthy show that would result in whispers behind backs, fake smiles, unheard of ‘hi, mate, you alright?’s for the foreseeable.

And no, not gonna happen, so despite Bryan’s loud provocation, obvious determination to have it out then and there, Liam picks up the majority of bags, turns to the stairs and simply leaves him to follow - or not, as pleases.

He knows Bryan, like most people, struggles with the stairs, but at the same time is not surprised to see that his ire has afforded him extra lung capacity and speed, and he’s followed very closely behind, his breathlessness owing more to anger than lack of stamina.

Sighing internally, Liam, pushes the door open, hoping Zayn hasn’t inadvertently left a glove or a bangle or earring to make his life even harder than it’s about to be.

And no, as far as he can tell, Zayn’s left no obvious trace of his presence.

Well…

There is the strong scent of his extremely expensive cologne, and yeah, Bryan’s nose is twitching; ears reddening, lips thinning, eyes bright with anger.

He looks absolutely fucking gorgeous, but Liam knows better than to try that - Bryan isn’t the type you can deflect that way.

The door slams - well, if it was that type of door it would definitely be loudly protesting its treatment. It actually isn’t the type of door that slams (given that even his mum wasn’t able to abuse it that way - she’s naturally heavy handed with doors - he has reason to know it isn’t that kind of door).

But Bryan definitely had the intent to let it fly off its hinges.

If he weren’t so pissed off he might have noticed.

He doesn’t.

He’s scenting the presence of another man, looking around for god alone knows what - signs of fucking, perhaps?

Whatever, he is angry and ready to play judge, jury  _ and _ executioner if Liam’s any judge.

“The fuck, Liam? I leave you alone for what, a day? A day? And you’re off fucking some-”

“Whoa, whoa, what? Fucking who? What the hell makes you think I’ve been fucking someone else?”

“So you haven’t?” The question is said in the same tone as the former accusation, meaning ‘you fucking liar! Try to get out of this one’.

“Of course not!” Okay, why does he sound like he’s lying through his teeth? He’s come to the conclusion that there’s just no way to indignantly state the truth... and differentiate it from when you’re really fucking lying whilst indignantly protesting your veracity.

Maybe he just has a liar’s face or something…

Apparently some people can routinely lie through their teeth and get everyone to believe them.

He, on the other hand…

Bryan is glaring at him. “I took a chance on you. Me mates were saying you weren’t in my class, and I binned them off for it. And now here you go dicking some fucking Paki behind my back. You’ve blown it mate.” 

For a moment all Liam can do is stand there staring at him.

Slowly, but forcefully he becomes aware of a sort of ache somewhere deep in his gut.

Crazy as it seems even to think it he swears he can feel his heart actually hurting.

What he’s sure of is that his temples are throbbing and his limbs have started to tremble.

“Get out.” He keeps his voice deliberately quiet and knows by the way Bryan’s still standing there, still angry, still happy to fight that he simply doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand how much danger he’s in.

“Really? You’re telling  _ me _ to get out?” His laughter is mirthless, a little mocking, but he’s still not moving. “Don’t try to turn it round on me just cos you got caught out.”

Liam pushes past him, pulls the door open. “You need any help with your stuff?” He indicates the bags he struggled to carry up the stairs.

“What?” Bryan’s looking incredulous, clearly not expecting this reaction to his accusations. “Don’t be fucking turning this round on me!” He comes right up to Liam’s face. “I’m the one who’s turned down a million fucking offers cos I knew even knowing about them would rip you apart. I’m the one who binned my friends cos they talked smack about me being with you. Where do you get off telling  _ me _ to fucking get out when you’re the one who’s fucked this up?”

Liam simply stares at him, examining every inch of his beautiful face. “I didn’t realise you were a racist,” he says simply, believing that he need say no more, that this is enough, because for him, it certainly is.

Bryan’s looking perplexed. “What?”

“Get your things. I’ll help you bring them down, like I said.” He just wants this over, wants him gone.

He knows it’s over and this realisation takes a little heat from the anger he’s doing his best to keep contained.

He has no intention of fighting - there’s nothing to fight for, nothing worth saving.

He just wants him gone.

Bryan’s confusion is overtaking the anger. He clearly doesn’t quite understand what’s happening. This was meant to go one way, but for some reason it’s taken a turn to the left…

“Look, you fucked up and yeah I’m pissed off, but you don’t get to make it all about me. Don’t you think I’ve a right to be fucking angry with you? But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to talk it through.” He’s doing his best to look conciliatory, but the anger’s shining through. Any conciliation they reach now will be very fragile, transitory, not worth pretending is real.

He’d be willing to talk it out, let Bryan have his anger, rail at him, get his feelings aired - if he had indeed fucked up.

He hasn’t, hasn’t done a thing wrong and in any case, a part of him knows that even if he had been in the wrong Bryan’s words would have immediately changed things, rendering _ his _ guilt null and void.

They’ve only been seeing each other a matter of weeks and although Liam really liked him, still finds him physically attractive, the fact that he could think that, let alone say it out loud makes all of that totally irrelevant.

Even if they’d been in a serious relationship, had been together for years that peek into the core of him would have changed things.

He’d certainly have questioned his judgment, questioned whether he’d known his partner at all.

The fact is he and Bryan are still new, still new enough to make the decision to end it painless.

The only regret he has right now is that he’d allowed himself to be taken in by the gorgeous face and body, the charming personality.

Well, you can’t tell a racist just by looking at them, can you?

“Bryan, think what you like. You’re wrong, but that’s neither here nor there now. Grab the bag - that one. I’ll take the rest.” So doing he picks up all the bags he dropped, holds the door open while looking expectantly into Bryan’s still perplexed face.

“Liam, mate, look…” He’s made an effort to soften his expression, push down the anger. Liam can’t help wondering why, why he’s going to so much effort. It’s not really what he’d have expected from Bryan. Bryan touches him gently on the elbow. “Mate, listen. I know I went off on one and yeah I was really pissed off, but I do want to talk, hear your side of things.” He tries to take one of the bags from him. “Come on, put this down. Let’s start this over.” His voice is reasonable, even slightly seductive and all Liam feels is mild perplexity. Why the hell is he trying so hard?

“Bry, just get your things, yeah? Maybe we can talk later, but not right now. Right now is not the best time.” He wonders even as the words leave his mouth whether he actually means them, believes that maybe he really doesn’t. 

His goal is to get him out of the flat and the reptile brain has taken over, leading him to the optimal strategies to achieve that goal.

What he knows about the reptile brain, however, is that it tends to do what’s convenient at the time with no thought for the long term consequences of said strategy, but he isn’t in the mood to over analyze a thing right now.

He needs Bryan gone.

Bryan considers.

Then deciding that he’s not about to win this battle, with a glare grabs the bags he carelessly threw on the floor, flounces past Liam, the set of his shoulders promising never to talk to him, so much as  _ think _ about him ever again.

Sighing with relief, Liam follows him.

 

**

 

Liam is honestly astonished at Bryan’s behaviour.

They’d parted company that day, with Bryan absolutely refusing to allow Liam to help him to his car, driving off with a squeal of tyres that must surely have had curtains twitching and doors opening all along the quiet street, and as far as Liam was concerned that had been it.

He knew he’d never hear from him again.

Well, more fool him.

Clearly he knew nothing about...anything.

Bryan’s been phoning, texting, messaging him on social media every fucking day since.

He’d responded at first, but doesn’t anymore since there really is no point.

Bryan isn’t ready to let him go and well, he isn’t ready to do anything other than let go.

He has let him go; the relationship is dead, dead dead, and talking to him, he who has the polar opposite perspective is beyond futile.

So he refuses to answer his calls, hoping that in time he’ll get the message.

  
  


**

 

He knows it isn’t Bryan calling because he’s blocked him now.

Crazy that it took him so long to even think of doing it, but now he has and while he isn’t foolish enough to think the problem’s gone away entirely there is a measure of relief for now.

He picks up the phone, a little tentatively, since the number is unknown and well… “Hi.”

“Hi, mate. You okay?”

Later he’ll liken his reaction to the sound of Zayn’s voice to that of hearing the growl of a lion behind you when you’ve somehow landed unexpectedly in  Africa when you’d a few moment ago been peacefully sleeping on the train in London or something.

Your senses recognise the imminence of an almighty threat and act accordingly.

Everything automatically focuses on granting him the capacity to either run or fight, so speech isn’t necessarily necessary, is it?

No surprise that his vocal chords constrict while his hearing ramps up, visual acuity heightens.

Later he’ll be able to describe in vivid detail exactly what he could see, smell, touch at that moment, will recall the exact configuration of the room, how hot he was, how the hairs on the back of his neck felt like huge spikes.

But he can’t form words - not yet.

“Mate? You there?”

“I-I Hi.” He clears his throat, tries again. “Hi, you alright?”

He can hear the smile in Zayn’s voice. “I’m good. You?”

“Can’t complain.” Oh god, he’s channelling his mum!

“No.” There’s a short silence while Zayn probably wonders what possessed him to call.

It’s Liam’s instinct to ensure awkward silences simply don’t exist, but for some reason he can’t get the rest of his brain to cooperate, get his body to end the silence.

Zayn coughs. “Just wanted to thank you for the meal the other day. It was really good.”

“Oh you’re welcome. You came on a good day. My casseroles usually turn out pretty good.”

“Yeah? What else do you cook?”

Liam isn’t sure if this is just small talk or a proper question.

Doesn’t really matter, though, does it? “Spag bol’s a good one for me.”

“You’re joking! That’s one of my favourites. Have to warn you though, my spag bol would probably  _ kill your  _ spag bol. Just saying.” Even across the airwaves he sounds smug.

Liam has become accustomed to smug from Zayn.

Bad, bad winner.

But was this a challenge?

He could do challenges - especially when it came to spag bol.

“Mate, really?”

“Really, mate.” Zayn’s grinning, Liam can tell.

Does he genuinely think he’ll beat him? He was actually being  _ modest  _ about his spag bol. It’s even better than his casserole.

Okay, if that’s what he wanted. “You sure?”

Now Zayn’s openly laughing. “Oh I’m sure.”

“A cook off.”

“A cook off.”

“When?”

“Next week - any time.”

“Friday evening.”

“Suits me.”

“Do you need my address?”

There’s a short silence and Liam, for a moment,has no clue what it means, then Zayn says with Zayn authority. “Someone will pick you up.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . Okay then.

“No problem. Around 6?”

“Perfect.”

“Okay, mate. Great.”

 

*

 

It’s only later as he’s getting ready for bed that it occurs to him to wonder how the fuck Zayn got his phone number….


	7. Chapter 7

His mum has never met any of his boyfriends.

She’s met all his girlfriends - such as they were.

He doesn’t like to dwell overmuch on the reasons why that might be, not like it’s that hard to fathom.

His mother isn’t homophobic - far from it - but he guesses that she guesses that he’s uncomfortable with his attraction to men, still feels awkward sharing that aspect of himself with her - and his dad.

They know he’s queer - that is and has never been the issue - the issue (if there is an issue) is with with him; namely his perception of them; his belief that they want something different for him and will always just be ‘doing their best’ when it comes to accepting his ‘lifestyle’.

He can’t say this for sure, he has, after all, never actually  _ shown _ them that side of his life, never actually given them the opportunity to know how comfortable or otherwise they’d be with it.

He simply prefers things as they are - for now.

The fact of the matter is that there has, up till now, never been a guy, a boyfriend with whom he genuinely envisaged a long term future, a future which would necessitate meeting his family (well, his parents, his sisters have met several of his boyfriends over the years).

So he’s been fine keeping things as they are.

He still is.

It’s just that his mum, as his mother often seems to do, has somehow, uncannily picked up on  _ something _ and is (not intentionally because it’s rarely intentional) making him pretty damn uncomfortable right now.

“Apparently he’s thinking of buying something in Worcestershire. Not sure where exactly, but there are some lovely houses round them parts. It’s all countryside once you get past Redditch, you know.” She’s making him the biggest bacon butty the world has ever seen, taking her time about it too.

His mum really should learn to multitask (better) when she’s promised something edible to someone who is flipping starving…

“I know, mum. But you know what the papers are like - can’t believe a flippin word half the time.”

“I know, love, but I think it might be true.”

He shrugs, wondering if she’d rap him over the knuckles if he nudged her out the way and finished making the sandwich himself. “Can’t see it meself. Why move from LA to bloody Worcestershire?”

“He misses home.” She finally reaches for a knife to cut the sandwich, lips pursed in that way she has, like she’s just said something absolutely irrefutable.

He rolls his eyes, taking care she doesn’t see, gets ready for the sandwich.

“Did you say you wanted tea or coffee?”

“As it comes, mum. Oh fantastic. You’re a star.”

“Yeah, when it’s about getting your belly full or doing your washing.”

“I don’t ask you to do me washing any more, mum!” He voices the objection because the indignation is automatic, but he obviously knows it’s a waste of breath.

If is mum wishes to exaggerate, there is not a damn thing anyone can do to stop her.

The actual truth? No bloody chance.

“Cos your nets - a disgrace they was, last time, son. I told you how to separate the whites and how to put them by themselves in the net, so they don’t get run on or …”

The taste of the salty bacon combined with the juicy salad is enough to engage all his senses, tune her out.

Has to be careful to pretend to be paying attention, though.

And it’s not like she doesn’t make sense - most of the time - it’s just that when he’s hungry…

He’d had a really long day at work - every thing that could go wrong, going wrong; meals, cups of tea, completely off the agenda.

He’d planned to drop by his mum’s on the way home, but as the day from hell continued unabated it had become imperative.

Since she knows him so well it hadn’t taken any time to divine his status and she’d come through - eventually.

But he has no idea why she’s talking about Zayn.

It’s been ages since she brought him up.

His mum is a massive Zayn fan. She even tolerates his music, actively likes some of his albums.

“Can’t understand what he’s saying half the time, but he sounds very nice.”

According to her she used to change Zayn’s nappies, feed him his bottle, dose him up on Farley’s rusks. “Used to love his rusks, Zayn. Couldn’t get enough of ‘em. Every time he used to see the packet. You know the one with the little baby smiling with a rusk in his mouth his little face used to light up. You should have seen the way he used to shove ‘em in his little mouth. And then he’d get it all over hisself. You’ve seen the mess rusks make, and I used to have to get a wipe - don’t think we had pampers them days. Johnson’s it was. But of course he had sensitive skin and we used to have to be ever so careful. Beautiful skin he had, though. Soft and so sweet smelling. He was gorgeous, a gorgeous little baby. Course he was a bit chubbier then. Remember how you used to have your chubby cheeks and everything? Yeah, little Zayn used to have them chubby little cheeks too. You’d just wanna pinch them…”

She’s told a version of the same story a billion times over the last 15 years.

At first Liam used to tune her out, wasn’t like she was even telling the tale to him - just to anyone who happened to be around whenever Zayn appeared on the telly or in the papers. Liam labels it in the privacy of his own mind as her version of ‘I knew him before he was famous’ and though Zayn’s been on telly since he was 11 years old, it was only after he made his first album at the age of 18 that Liam really took notice of him.

His mum had made him aware of Zayn when he got his break on Gordon Hill Academy, but it wasn’t his type of show and he hadn’t been interested enough to check it out - it or him.

His mum had followed Zayn’s progress from that show to his bigger break on the equivalent American show, informing Liam at every turn, yet he still hadn’t cared. 

His interest had only been piqued after accidentally hearing Zayn’s second single from his debut album.

And only after he’d sought him out, obsessively devouring every last morsel of information about him, spending hours staring at the images of his face, had he decided that maybe it was time to start paying attention to the many and varied outpourings from his mother’s non stop turbo driven mouth.

He learned that Zayn had been born, not in Bradford as commonly believed, but in Selly Oak, at the Birmingham Maternity Hospital. 

His mum and dad had been living in Birmingham after his dad had relocated his then small family (“Zayn’s sister is lovely. Looks nothing like him and his mum, mind. Maybe she looks like her granny. Yeah, Trish says she has the look of her daddy’s mum and sisters”) to the Midlands in pursuit of sustainable work.

His mum had been in the very early stages of pregnancy, so early they hadn’t even been aware she was expecting until after they moved.

And thus Zayn had been born in Birmingham - officially - but according to his mum the family never really settled in the Midlands and by the time Zayn was 18 months old they’d returned home - to Bradford - and obviously no-one had felt it relevant to share the official birthplace story.

Obviously if his mum had her way she’d have told everyone how she’d been instrumental in raising the future superstar, but the funny thing about his mum was that she seemed to have an unnatural understanding of PR and spin, seemed to understand that it was important for everyone to regard Zayn as the Bradford boy made good, that he  _ needed _ to be Yorkshire through and through; that any deviation from the official story was almost certainly not a good thing.

So she only ever told  _ them _ the story - ad infinitum - as far as he was aware confining her tales to her inner circle (meaning those who genuinely had no real interest in Zayn, regardless of his status).

He still found it slightly embarrassing that his mum was a bigger Zayn fan than he was; that she knew more about him than he did.

She confessed that she’d only looked after him in nursery for 6 months, but it seemed to Liam that as far as she was concerned that 6 month period had forged an unbreakable bond between them, had conveyed on her some type of supernatural connection with both him and his life.

And in all honesty he couldn't exactly dispute this - experience had seemed to want to prove her right.

But she hadn’t talked up Zayn for a really long time.

Liam had figured that since her audience hadn’t grown and her stories had remained the same she had finally concluded that she was on a loser, that it was time to pack up her shingle and call it a day.

But for some damn reason today of all days had been the day she’d decided to go on a zayn rampage…

 

**

 

Since she seemed to know so much about Zayn he asked what he’d never been interested to ask before.

Had to be canny about it though.

They’re in the lounge, watching television.

It’s getting on a bit and he really should be making tracks, but first…

“Do you think he’s buying this house in Worcestershire cos he’s thinking of getting married?”

It’s been hours since they’d had that conversation in the kitchen, but he knows his mum will have no trouble picking up where they’d left off.

Maybe she does indeed have some kind of eerie, supernatural instinct when it comes to Zayn.

She barely glances away from the...thing...she’s busy knitting. God alone knows what it’ll turn out to be - a jumper, a hat, a balaclava… “He’s not the marrying type.” This is said in that way she has - I know what I know and don’t argue cos I know.

Not good enough.

“He’s my age, mum - 28. I’d think he’d want to get married by now.”

She shrugs. “Not everyone wants to get married, sweetheart.” I mean, look at you.

She doesn’t say the words, but the words are said, all the same.

And no, of course, he can’t argue with that.

The thing is he knows damn well she wants him to get married.

Every girl he brought home was a potential wife so far as his mum was concerned.

She has 3 grandchildren, but he is fairly sure she will not rest until she has at least one from her only son, too.

He wonders if it preys on her mind, the fact that his sexuality makes the prospect of getting that grandchild ever more remote.

He doesn’t respond to that loaded statement, ignores it, in fact.

“I know he’s been a bit of a player and everything.” She makes a tutting sound, which he ignores. “But I’d have thought when you reach a certain age…”

“I suppose so. Who knows? Zayn does what he does and good luck to him.”

This has always surprised him about his mum - her live and live let attitude.

She’s kind-hearted, he knows that, but she’s also quite strict when it comes to her own morals and she does judge people - definitely does..

It’s just that it never quite manifests in the way he’d expect.

And he still hasn’t quite got a handle on it, has been actively trying to understand her for years, but so far hasn’t quite managed it.

It also seems to him since he’s been observing it for a decade  that Zayn, for some reason, seems to break all the rules she’s made and happily applies to others.

He has no idea why.

Also has no idea why he isn’t telling her about Zayn.

Withholding this from her feels like an act of treason, spite, malice even.

He intends to tell her, but he is way too confused about the bizarre events of the past month himself to know how to clue her in, so the safest solution is not to tell her.

He examines her for a while, the hypnotic flow of her hands, the concentration on her face, wondering what she’s thinking.

She loves talking about Zayn. 

Even when it came to simply saying that he’d apparently released a new album or single she’d get excited and happy.

He has no idea why she’s like this, but he loves that Zayn makes her happy - even if he isn’t aware of her existence.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to see the house - in the papers, I mean?”

She chuckles. “No, sweetheart, I doubt it. I don’t think anyone’s ever seen any of Zayn’s homes.”

He frowns. “Mum, I’ve seen his homes. The one in Malibu, the London apartment In Canary, the Leeds apartment…”

“I don’t think those are where he really spends his time.” She glances up at an outburst of applause on the television. “Oh, he won? I thought the other guy was better - the gay one. He had a much better voice, chose better songs to suit his vocal range. And he had better presence, too. Oh well. It’s all fixed anyway.” She returns to her knitting.

Liam stares at her for a long moment. “You don’t think he lives in any of those properties? What do you mean?”

He can sense the sigh - it wouldn’t be the first time she’s had to patiently explain things to him.

If her long suffering, worldly attitude is anything to go by she’s a veritable expert on the entertainment industry and all its machinations.

Yeah, right; she’s his mum, an ordinary working class housewife from Wolverhampton who thinks soap operas are the epitome of entertainment.

She is demonstrably not an expert on PR - she falls for PR all the time - so no, of course he doesn’t listen to her.

“Sweetheart - those stories in the paper are  _ barely _ the truth. These guys don’t want people to know who they really are, as people I mean - except if it will help to draw attention to them and get them views or whatever you kids call it. Everyone does it.”

He purses his lips, a little irked by her manner.

She’s the out of touch parent.

How dare she imply that he’s the one who doesn’t understand how the world works!

“So how do you know what’s true and what isn’t? You can’t tell me you can just automatically look at a story and tell what’s true and what isn’t.”

Her pause is brief but telling. “Well, I’ll give you that - you can’t always tell, but sometimes you can. Some stories you can tell.”

“Like Zayn not living where he says he’s living?” His voice is tight with scepticism, but he knows his mum won’t pick up on it.

“Well, yeah.” He can tell she’s uncomfortable with the conversation, probably knowing that her pose as all seeing oracle will collapse under further interrogation and though he does want to, in a way, continue the conversation (in case it yields some actual information) decides to let her off the hook.

“Anyway, you definitely can’t trust the papers.”

“No,” she agrees and grins at him, but he can sense she’s troubled, he just can’t quite figure out why.

 

**

 

On his way home he decides that after his meeting with Zayn he’ll tell her all about it.

At which point he’ll also be able to happily assure her that Zayn does indeed live in a house, a house that’s real as fuck...


	8. Chapter 8

It occurs to him that while Zayn has his number he doesn’t have Zayn’s.

 

He tries to call him off the number left on his phone, but it rings out every time and eventually he gets that it will never be answered.

Right.

So he can’t get in touch to ask whether it’s okay to bring Loki along for the excursion.

He’s fairy sure Zayn would say yeah, bring him, but since he hasn’t been able to bloody well  _ ask _ …

That being the case Loki’s currently being spoiled rotten over at his sister Ruth’s, his nephew Jordan designating him his new favourite toy.

It’s a weight off his mind, no question.

Loki generally spends weekdays with Molly, a former kennel maid he met when he volunteered at the dog’s home a few years back, and he trusts her enough to know that even when he doesn’t come to pick him up on time, when his day lengthens beyond the agreed hours it’ll make no difference to her; Loki will be picked up the following day with no fanfare, resentment or jacked up fee (to encourage future punctuality).

But it’s Saturday and he can’t ask her to work on Saturday.

So, Loki’s living it up with people who spoil and adore him.

Poor Loki.

The plain fact is his dog has a better bloody life than he does!

Loki, for instance, hasn’t spent the last three days trying to find an outfit to wear.

Loki definitely hasn’t gone in search of some unique brand of cologne not yet invented; cologne imbued with the unique properties of while smelling great not making its wearer seem like he’s trying way too hard.

Probably hasn’t attempted to get a haircut designed to make him look completely different without being so noticeable anyone ( Zayn) would feel obliged to remark on it either.

Nope, his dog is definitely  _ not _ a bloody idiot!

 

**

 

He sort of expects Zayn to phone on the day, but when the car arrives (it’s really damn obvious it’s The Car) without fanfare or phone call he really can’t profess to be at all astonished.

Zayn, well Zayn’s like that – not the most conventional kid in the room.

His mum (had she known or anyone been foolish enough to  _ consult _ her) would have said as much.

“Even as a babby he was different. I mean he’d look at you with these big brown eyes. Lovely eyes he had, even as a baby. He’d be watching you, watching everything you was doing and you couldn’t help feeling he was taking it all in. Like  _ learning _ or something. I tell you, when I saw he was on the telly, acting and that I was not surprised.  Part of me wishes he hadn’t given that up, I have to say. I mean I love his music and everything, but you never see him these days. Wish he was still on telly.”

Liam never really got into the shows Zayn used to star in, and, in a way, doesn’t associate (or more accurately, like to associate) them with Zayn, so makes a point of never encouraging her in her musings.

Knowing his mum any encouragement would have her writing to Zayn, quietly suggesting he consider getting ‘back into the acting’.

She’d let slip a year or two ago that she’d actually written to Zayn - several times.

She would undoubtedly have said more had his resulting horror at her confession not been so apparent.

“Only to say his album was good, sweetheart. He never seen it. You know they don’t see half the stuff sent to them.”

She seems to think that Zayn not getting to see her letter –letters – is the point.

The  _ point _ is that his mum isn’t meant to act like some crazy fan, writing to her idol!

He wanted to tell her to never, ever embarrass him – any of her kids – like that again, but assumed that his response had been enough to effectively stop her in her tracks.

Yes, he’s used to his mum embarrassing him, but writing to Zayn that way is something else again.

And yes, she has been a Zayn fan longer than he has, but still.

A part of him honestly can’t help feeling that despite all that, all that aside, she really should have the grace to bow out now, allow him the field.

How’s he ever gonna feel comfortable discussing, fawning over, Zayn with his mum? 

No, he never will and has thus been obliged to severely downplay his interest, which is actually pretty bloody unfair.

He  _ should _ be able to enjoy Zayn without feeling he’s competing with his own mother for God’s sakes!

So, yeah, the thrill that should come with idolizing someone has been just a little tarnished.

And while he doesn’t entirely know how exactly, he’s determined that this dinner with Zayn will finally give him the means to persuade his mum to back off.

He’s obviously not going to tell Zayn about his mum, but expects to maybe get an inkling of Zayn’s  _ true _ feelings about fans interfering in his life (thinking that because they met him once they’re now bffs), and then gently, subtly convey that to his mother.

The fact that he’ll get it directly from the horse’s mouth will give his words credence when he starts to gently question all her certainties, show her that she actually  _ doesn’t _ know what she thinks she does.

This decided, his mood immediately lifts, enough that the nerves that had reached almost fever pitch once the car slid into view vanish entirely, replaced by a confidence and sense of anticipation that had until then been foundering in a darkening grey sea of anxiety and what ifs.

He hurries downstairs, unconsciously humming one of his favourite Zayn tracks.

 

**

 

Had he given it any thought at all he’d probably have allowed himself to anxiously fret over the conversation he’d be forced to have with the bodyguards.

One had been at the door when he came downstairs, only acknowledging his presence by the barest flicker of eye contact.

Liam could genuinely attest that this had been the only eye contact he’d ever made with this or any other member of Zayn’s security team.

This one, a beefy Asian guy, had been present the previous occasions he’d seen Zayn, and Iike the others had barely acknowledged Liam’s presence at all.

Must be a skill they picked up at boot camp or something.

And for his part he too must have acclimated to ‘how things were’ or maybe simply had a certain expectation as to how security personnel behaved since none of it had seemed at all strange. Even the journey conducted in utter silence hadn’t bothered him.

The only thing that made him a little uncomfortable was the presence of the guy he’d noticed before, the one who wasn’t built like a guard, didn’t act like  a guard, who, if anything, appeared to be someone who’d be best mates with Zayn.

Liam felt he knew enough about Zayn’s life to know the guys he hung with but this guy he’d never seen before.

He was a light skinned black guy, mid to late twenties, habitually attired in very expensive urban wear, a certain air one might ( if given to less than kind snap judgements) categorise as arrogant marking him as someone fairly used to the trappings of wealth.

He took no more notice of Liam’s presence in the car than he had on any of the previous occasions they’d been in each other’s presence.

He didn’t look like security, just  _ acted _ the way they did; oblivious to all that was going on around him – well, when it pertained to Liam at least.

While Liam definitely didn’t mind this from the bodyguards, for some reason he bloody well did mind it from this guy.

His various attempts to trap him into making eye contact throughout the journey proved unsuccessful.

The guy absorbed himself in his phone not even bothering to raise his head when Liam entered and later exited the car.

Rude.

And since there really was no justification for it, Liam decided to give up the battle to be neutral and finally admit to feeling an immediate, uncompromising dislike for the guy.

Shame really, since he fully intended to enjoy his evening with Zayn, but no point trying to suppress the feelings . He’d learned by now just how damaging that could be.

Still, it was wise to (for now), make an attempt to breathe it away, put the dickhead behind him and instead seriously try to get to grips with the fact that  a car had been sent – with bodyguard and dickhead onboard – to take him to the other side of the park, a mere mile from his flat.

Zayn lives a mile from his fucking flat!

And not only that, he lives in a house that far from being the domain of the multi millionaire Liam knows him to be, is actually divided into flats, one of which Zayn occupies.

Oh.

It isn’t even the biggest, most imposing property on the street!

Struggling not to let his shock – yes, shock –show Liam dutifully follows the bodyguard as he leads the way to the first floor flat Zayn occupies.

Well, the property’s actually very nice.

A nicely refurbished well-maintained place.

It’s still a house divided into flats, though.

And he definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

The bodyguard, after opening the door to the flat and making sure Liam enters, closes it behind him and presumably goes about whatever business he needs to take care of.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Zayn appears in the hallway, tea towel in hand.

He flicks a glance over him.

“What you wearing a coat for?”

  
  


**

  
  


“When was the last time you kicked a ball?” He can’t help the skepticism. Zayn’s  on record charmingly decrying his lack of knowledge of (or love for) the beautiful game.

“What d’ya mean?” He’s squeezing the life out of several cloves of garlic.  “I’m always having a kickabout with the lads.”

Liam’s eyebrow raises involuntarily, and is relieved to see that Zayn didn’t catch that. “Oh, okay then. Fancy a kickabout later?” He isn’t  _ exactly _ trying to catch him out, but wouldn’t it be natural to suggest that in the normal course of things?

“Depends.” He isn’t looking up.

Liam tries his best not to see this as deliberate.

“On whether you’re sicking up your spag bol over the toilet you mean.”

Now Zayn does look up. There’s a familiar glint in his eye. “We could make this really tasty, you know.”

Liam sincerely hopes he isn’t talking about money. Obviously he couldn’t compete with him there.

“Okay. How?”

Zayn examines him for a moment, head cocked to one side. “How game are you?”

Oh fuck, not a blind dare. “I’m game.”

Zayn smiles, returns his attention to the preparation of their meal. “Great.”

Liam waits and waits for more. When it’s clear that no more will be forthcoming he says. “Wouldn’t it be fairer to have an independent arbiter? And come to think on it, shouldn’t they have tasted my casserole too?”

Zayn looks up at him. “Is that what you think this is about?”

Liam stares at him for a moment before sighing, admitting that no he doesn’t.

He isn’t sure what it  _ is _ about but no, it’s not about having an independent arbiter decide who’s the better cook.

“So, you think I’m going to be so impressed, so ecstatic I’ll automatically concede.”

Zayn’s shrug gives him his answer.

“I hope you’re as good as you think you are otherwise someone’s gonna end up with egg on their face.”

He sees Zayn’s quietly raised eyebrow, but since he doesn’t see fit to follow it up with words, lets it be.

“Would it be considered cheating if I helped?”

Zayn snorts. “It would be considered  _ sabotage _ .”

“How could anyone ‘sabotage’ onion chopping?”

Zayn doesn’t reply, except to reach for a large red onion, looking him full in the face as he begins to peel it.

Liam rolls his eyes.

  
  


**

 

Zayn, unlike his public persona, can chat for England.

He apparently loves to gossip too.

But if Liam expected to get some inside gen on the rich and famous he’s quickly disappointed.

Anyone would think Zayn hadn’t rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous - on both sides of the Atlantic. His gossip owes more to the content of gossip rags than any real inside dirt.

Liam is tempted to ask him to spill  _ rea _ l dirt, but something stops him.

Maybe Zayn needs to know him better first,  maybe this is even some kind of test.

But anyway, since he doesn’t read the gossip rags the information he’s just gleaned is new to him – and he can’t pretend not to be interested.

“I never liked him, though. Always thought he was fake. As fake as that bloody tan. Can you believe a guy would spend that long under a sun bed every day just to look like that?”

“Well, not everyone has the type of skin that tans well. Do  _ you _ tan well?” There is a slightly different quality to the way Zayn asks that question, punctuated perhaps by the way he’s watching Liam over the rim of his glass.

Liam shrugs. “I suppose I do, yeah.”

“Ah, there ya go then. You don’t need it so of course you can’t understand it.”

“Well,  yeah, okay, affair enough, but it’s not me being a dickhead. I don’t think there’s anything  _ wrong _ with guys getting tans or even wearing make-up – in moderation – I suppose it’s just a certain  _ type _ of guy. Oh forget it, you probably don’t know what I mean.”

“No, I think I do and I didn’t say that cos I don’t agree. I said it cos it’s what I think-in  _ addition _ to agreeing with you.”

“So what we arguing about?”

“We’re arguing?” Zayn’s amused and not trying that hard to hide it.

Liam feels a little stupid –not because of anything Zayn’s done,  but because he’s used to feeling stupid at some point during the course of a conversation with anyone he perceives as cleverer than he is.

Sometimes he gets over it and carries on, other times it takes him over and he clams up, making things really fucking awkward for all concerned.

This time despite the customary feeling he  _ doesn’t _ feel that awkward.

Despite the way Zayn’s made him feel since he was 18 years old, since he became a fan, despite the way he felt initially when they met in the park he realises (and is finally ready to admit) that he actually gets on with Zayn, that it’s like they’ve known each other for years. 

He’s neither tongue tied nor star struck and no longer even feels particularly awkward around him.

Feeling stupid at times will probably always be par for the course –  _ his _ thing, nothing to do with Zayn.

“I suppose it’s cos I’m so used to squabbling with me sisters. Even an ordinary convo can feel like a fight.” He chuckles to convey that none of it’s serious, that fight doesn’t actually mean fight, that he honestly doesn’t think they’re arguing  - at all.

Zayn clearly gets it; Liam can tell even though all he does is grin. “I got 3. How many you got again?”

“Only two. Two’s bad, three’d be hell.”

“You have no idea. Although to be fair it’s really only me older sister who thinks she can boss me around. The others still mostly look up to me - except when they all get together in the same room. Then you might as well just stick in headphones and try your best to pretend you’re somewhere else.”

Liam shakes his head in sympathy. “Tell me about it. Of course I’m the youngest, the only boy, and yeah…”

“It should be an  _ advantage _ being the only boy. It’s not.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. Though I think being the youngest is probably the biggest issue.”

“I sometimes wish I was.”

“Really? I suppose it might  _ seem _ attractive from the outside. Believe me it’s not. Perhaps if I had  _ better _ sisters.”

“The kind who take you serious.”

“The kind who don’t remember you wetting yourself in nursery.”

“The ones who respect all the strides you’ve made as an adult.”

“The kind who actually bloody _ remember  _ that you  _ are _ an adult!”

Zayn sighs. “Family.”

“Yeah.”

They sit for a moment in comfortable silence lost in reminisce of their experiences, and Liam, once again, finds himself forgetting where he is, who he’s with.

No, there’s not the same  level of comfort he has with Matt, but that’s to be expected - he’s known Matt since he was 8 years old; the guy’s more like a brother than anything. But he has something with Zayn that feels  little different. It’s like this guy has a better fundamental understanding of who he truly he is than any of his friends, any of his sisters...

All of a sudden, his nose starts to twitch. He frowns, looks up, looks around, then over at the still oblivious Zayn.

“Er, not trying to worry you or anything, but can I smell something burning?”

He tries his best not to grin when Zayn jumps up and, swearing, hurries out, wondering just how well he’d do at pretending concern for the ruined meal, if it would overburden his acting ability to offer help salvaging it…

 

**

 

Well, his help was not required - the meal didn’t burn; it was the garlic bread Zayn had left in the oven that had burned - and they had enough dough to discard that batch and make a perfect new batch.

Shame.

Zayn really didn’t need to be handed any more reasons to practice and display his smug satisfaction.

The meal is delicious.

He’d bloody well watched him make it from start to finish and could not for the life of him understand what he’d done, what secret ingredient he’d added in (while Liam’s back was turned) to make it taste so good.

He tries so, so hard not to praise him, but in the end has to cave. He can’t even try to half arse the reaction to the first mouthful…

“Mate,” is all he can manage, but it’s enough.

Zayn looks like the cat that got fat on the cream, grinning in reply, as he pours himself another drink.

He clearly doesn’t believe any words are required.

Maybe he’s right.

They eat the meal pretty much in silence, the only exchange being the request to pass bread, salad and refill glasses.

It’s an utter triumph - for Zayn.

And Zayn, as Liam’s established to his satisfaction previously, is not a good winner…

  
  


**

 

“So.” Zayn is looking suspiciously casual.

Liam sighs, not exactly knowing what’s coming, but sort of knowing what’s coming.

“Still game?”

“Oh God.”

Zayn’s regarding him, head tilted, trying, apparently, to look innocent and benign.

The fact that he’s an actor, can act, is a  _ trained _ fucking actor, must mean that he isn’t actually trying to convince anyone that he’s either innocent or benign.

“Okay, what?”

“Answer the question.”

“Oh wait is this the bit where I say yes and somehow inadvertently get roped into something I had no idea I was agreeing to?”

Zayn laughs. “Bro, I think you need to stop watching television.”

“Yes, but why do you need me to answer the question?”

“Cos I need to know if you’re still game.” He says this in such a reasonable tone, Liam feels confused - and even more wary.

They stare at each other for a second.

“Okay. I’m still game.”

“Great.” He smiles. “We’ll sort something out later.”  He turns on the console, and goes on to do a very good impersonation of someone now utterly absorbed in what they’re doing.

Liam, watching him, suddenly realises. “Hey, “ he says, attracting his attention. “All this time, even after eating your food, getting roped into something I’m probably gonna regret, I realise I ain’t even introduced meself properly.” Feeling awkward and momentarily nervous as hell he extends his hand. “Liam.”

Zayn stares at Liam’s hand for a second before meeting his eyes. “Javvad,” he says, with a smile.

His hand is cool and dry.


	9. Chapter 9

 

He doesn’t know what game Zayn’s playing, but since he obviously it has his reasons goes along with it.

He can’t  help quietly, at various points throughout the remainder of the evening, examining Zayn’s face, wondering if he can glean his motivations – or something- but all in all muses that it might be best to let it lie until he is in a position to truly chew on it.

The rest of the evening is fun – banter, trash talk, ungracious acts of losing and winning – no different, pretty much, to any night he’d spend with a friend.

Zayn, friend.

Wow, even the thought of making friends with Zayn feels transgressive, but then what would you call what he’s been doing the past 5 hours?

Even the previous week when he’d entertained him in his flat.

They’d been acting like mates since then.

So, is Zayn a friend?

Or will the night end with a goodbye and then utter silence after?

Well, he could allow that to happen or for once grow some bollocks and make sure it doesn’t.

 

**

 

“You’re a really bad loser, you know. Anyone ever tell you that?”

He’s watching Zayn pack away the console and accessories, back rigid, swearing under his breath.

Wow! Liam only beat him right at the end; not like he was trounced or utterly humiliated.

But maybe Liam should have refrained from passing any further remarks about the shortcomings of Zed United, complete with the multi million personnel at his disposal. No-one wanted to be reminded that they’d been beaten by a team that cost a 10th of the price of their superstar squad.

Liam is not astonished when Zayn says nothing in response.

He wonders if he’ll be made to walk home.

What a good thing he can not only find his way home no problem, but that it will take him a mere 15 minutes.

Still can’t believe that.

He’d been so certain Zayn was only passing through (for some obscure reason); that he lived nowhere near - and more than that wouldn’t even  _ consider _ living anywhere near.

But Zayn’s such an enigma, even more of an enigma than Liam had reckoned based on the stories he’d read over the years, even after making what he’d felt was a near academic level study of his behaviour.

Zayn’s never been his idea of a celebrity, though - shirking the limelight far too much for Laim’s liking, remaining frustratingly inaccessible, unfathomably mysterious.

A fan wants to know the minutiae of his idol’s existence.

Zayn’s been a real bitch in that sense - ensuring his fans get as little info about him as it’s possible to get.

And yet, looking at him now, what does that say about all the things Liam once thought to be true of him?

“I’ll treat you to a knickerbocker glory or a big mac if you like.”

To his surprise this gets a positive response.

Zayn turns, mouth twitching as he tries not to smile. “Do I look hot?”

For a moment Liam is left blinking in confusion, no doubt looking as idiotic as he feels. “Er…”

“How did you know ice cream is exactly what I want right now?”

Oh. “Well, _ I _ sort of want it, so figured you wouldn’t say no either.”

“So I don’t look hot to you?”

Liam definitely knows for sure he’s being teased now and isn’t quite sure what response he’s meant to have.

Zayn probably isn’t, but since Liam doesn’t actually know him, could well be one of these straight guys who suss when you’re into them and thus put you through the wringer. Oh it’s subtle, but they know exactly what they’re doing.

Liam isn’t about to play that game with him.

Zayn’s an idol. If he could build a friendship with him that would be cool, but it would be strictly friendship; the lines need to be absolutely fucking clear.

“You don’t, but that’s never been my criteria for eating ice cream. I eat it even when I’m freezing my bollocks off.”

Zayn’s smile is very amused, but also friendly, genuine. “You sound like a bit of an ice cream holic.”

“And you’d know this cos?”

“Cos I’m used to addictions.”

Liam elects to shove that one away for later examination. “I wouldn’t exactly call it an addiction, just a massive... like.” He laughs when Zayn laughs. “I suppose maybe I’m a  _ little _ addicted.”

“Just as well I’m a little addicted too then.” He nods toward the kitchen. “Coming?”

Liam would love to say his elevated pulse is because of the way he said that, because of the way his voice sounded, but it’s not, it’s because he knows Zayn’s going to have a ton of luxury ice cream in his freezer and he’s about to get an unexpected treat.

  
  


**

 

The parting isn’t as awkward as he secretly expected it to be.

Zayn lets him know he has an early start so can’t take him home, but would it be okay if one of his friends gives him a lift?

“No problem. Wouldn’t even mind walking. It’s only up the road.”

Zayn looks at him for a moment. “I’ll walk you home next time. It’s no trouble dropping you off.”

Liam knows a command when he hears one and, with a wry smile, reaches for his coat. “You know that if you walk me home I’d be tempted to then walk  _ you _ home.”

“And then I’d need to walk you back…”

“Yeah, best to get a lift.”

Zayn laughs, hitting a button on his phone. “I need to pay you back for beating me at Fifa. you know that, right, bro?”

Liam shakes his head. “Glutton for punishment, obviously.”

“I was going easy cos you was a guest.”

Liam’s smile is condescending. “And you set out to beat me when you was over at mine because?”

“Cos I knew you’d feel like a bad host if I let you win.”

Liam’s smile becomes incredulous. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

“Well, we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”

“Great. He’s literal, too.”

The door opens and the same security person enters, subtly changing the atmosphere.

Liam becomes brisk and businesslike, Zayn follows suit.

But all the same it’s not awkward, the shared joke unspoken but subtly acknowledged.

“I’ll be in touch. Gonna be away for a bit like I said. But if you’re gonna be free next week, we’ll have that match.”

“Look forward to it. Spag bol again?”

Zayn looks surprised, but pleased. “Yeah?”

Liam grins. “Yeah.”

  
  


**

 

He really expected to be up most of the night, chewing on the various morsels Zayn casually placed on his plate him, but after showering and going through his phone, listening to a few music tracks (Zayn’s not being one of them) he falls into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  
  


**

 

“I told you I needed to get to Asda this morning.”

“But who does their shop of a Sunday, sis?”

“People who don’t have a bloody minute to themselves during the week, that’s who. So are you coming over? You can look after Jordan for me. I swear I spend a hundred pounds more whenever he comes shopping with me!”

“Easy solution, Roo.”

“Like you’d know. So are you coming or what?”

He sighs, knowing it won’t do any good, make no impression whatever. “Give me 15 minutes.”

“Well, don’t take advantage, just cos you know I have to wait for you to get here!”

“As if.”

Her snort just before she ends the call lets him know that he’s probably in for a pretty hard time at her house that day.

A hard time, true, but also a day being spoiled, fed till he’s close to bursting.

He’ll complain all day long about his sisters to anyone who’ll listen, but knows damn well how lucky he is; that they’ll never not think of him as their beloved little brother and spoil him accordingly.

He pretends to mind - when he’s with his mates - but wallows in the attention otherwise.

It’s been a while since he spend the weekend with either of his sisters and he’s definitely looking forward to it.

Of course he’ll probably have to train Loki all over again to see him as his master, to not lazily raise his eyes - only his eyes - when Liam comes to fetch him; to not as good as say; ‘nah, it’s okay, I’m good, here, thanks.”

Why everyone feels the need to spoil his dog he will never know.

He takes his time getting ready, not to be contrary, but because he’s distracted, mind caught on the previous evening with Zayn.

He hasn’t even had time to process any of it, not really.

Why can’t Roo bring Loki over to his, save him the chore of getting ready, getting in his car and driving all the way there and then back again?

He knows he’s being selfish, lazy and unfair, but it’s Sunday, tomorrow’s Monday and doesn’t he deserve at least a few hours wallowing in his own juices and memories of Zayn?

The urgent ringing of the phone 2 minutes later says that no, apparently not.

  
  


**

 

Jordan still looks up to him.

He hopes this will never change, but if he’s basing Jordan’s future behaviour on his and his friends’ behaviour chances are better than good that in a few years time Uncle Liam will simply be a convenient ATM and not the cool superhero he is now.

Oh well.

Best make the most of it now then, hadn’t he?

The hug is as big and heartfelt as ever, though clearly right now his cachet is all due to being Loki’s daddy.

Looking at his dog, long suffering and smug under the affectionate attention from Liam’s nephew, Liam rolls his eyes.

Who does he remind him of again…?

“I see you’re not ready to go home yet, mate.”

Loki gives a desultory thump of the tail.

Has he actually put on 10 pounds overnight or is that just his imagination?

Whatever, he looks extremely sleek and comfortable.

“You gonna stay there all day or what?”

Another, equally desultory tail thump.

“You don’t wanna play fetch?”

Loki gives him a contemptuous glance, yawns, doesn’t move.

“Wow! One night being spoiled and look at you. Well, don’t think this is gonna become a regular thing. You’re definitely going for a run in the park when we get home.”

Loki glances up at him, gives an insolent thump of his tail, snuggles into his bedding.

“Cheeky little,” he mutters under his breath, knowing that if he were to try to inform anyone of his dog’s bald insolence they’d say he was off his head. “Well we’ll see.”

Loki doesn’t respond.

  
  


**

 

Turns out Loki was right to doubt him about the run in the park thing - he ends up staying longer at Ruth’s than planned, and it’s too late to go to the park once they get back home.

He’d have stayed over as she’d wanted him to if it hadn’t been too inconvenient for work and also, more importantly, if it hadn’t been clear she wanted the opportunity to interrogate him about his love life.

She, like all the women in his life, thinks she’s subtle.

It started with a compliment about his culinary skills which ‘naturally’, led into a remark about how lucky his partner would feel having such a great cook in the family.

Hsi eyes had been rolling internally from that moment, but give her her due she’d been a little - tried to be - a little more subtle than that.

“Bryan, is it? I forget.”

“Forget what?”

“You partner’s name.”

“Roo, you can call him my boyfriend. He isn’t my ‘partner’.”

“Okay, no need for the sarky tone.”

He waits, still eye rolling - they’ll never let a small thing like a sarky tone or clear reluctance to divulge a damn thing get in the way of their need to stick their nose in hsi business, so might as well let her get on with it.

Doesn’t take long.

“So does he appreciate your cooking?”

He shrugs. “Ain’t cooked for him that much. We usually eat out.”

“Oh. Do you? He usually treats you then.”

“We treat each other.” He wants to say something sarky like:’I’m the bloke, he’s the girl. Oh no, wait  _ I’m _ the girl and  _ he’s _ the bloke or is it that neither of us are girls?’ But not only would it be uncalled for it would most definitely prolong the bloody thing, so no, no more sarcasm.

“Oh that’s nice. Sounds like you’ve got a good ‘un there.”

He knows how he’s meant to respond - start extolling (at length) all the reasons why Bryan’s made for him. And it would, in one way, be the easier option.

On the other hand, he’d never hear the bloody end of it.

“I don’t want to jinx it, though, Roo. You know how that goes.”

Well, that was inspired; she certainly does know how that goes, being very aware of the rubbish his love life’s been lately.

Any chance not to jinx it will be understood, happily embraced.

Except, for some reason she seems unable to quite let it go and the remainder of the evening’s fraught with the unspoken questions and comments she clearly wishes to make on the matter of his love life.

Which is why he’s back home, wondering if his dog will ever again be satisfied with not being adored by strangers (Zayn) and family (Jordan), if he’ll ever regard Liam as enough.

He’s being foolish - he and Loki understand each other very well. It’s like family - you diss them in front of other people, but you and they know how it really is - that they’re first, second and last in your world.

He knows that for Loki he’s the bee’s knees, so can allow the occasional forays into rank disloyalty.

He finds himself idly wondering if Loki would have been friends with Zayn’s dog.

Yeah, he’ll need to remind himself to ask Zayn about her - if it’s not too painful. 

It did seem quite painful still, but he’s fairly confident Zayn will relish the chance to talk about how wonderful she was. He knows he would.

Zayn.

He’s still trying to get to grips with Zayn.

A month ago he’d been pretty sure he knew how he felt about Zayn - a guy he admired, a guy to whom he was very attracted; a fantasy, an ideal, a wish, a beautiful dream.

And now?

What was he now?

A friend?

A guy who made life uncomfortable for you every day?

Oh he’d been there.

Falling for straight guys was the worst.

Falling for a friend who was also straight?

But Zayn.

Who was he and how did, and could, he fit into Liam’s life?

God, even asking that questions feels mad.

How the fuck had this even happened?

And was it now a case of being careful what you wished for, because though he’d dearly love to be okay with Zayn as a friend, okay with keeping those lines very well defined, he knows that there’s just no way he’ll be able to keep the feelings platonic.

It’s pretty clear, though, that Zayn’s looking for a friend, looking for someone who’s not interested in the other Zayn, in the public persona, which means that he too wants something, needs something from liam, enough so that he isn’t averse to running obscure tests on him.  

Oh Liam’s very aware he’s being tested, just hasn’t quite figured out exactly how or when, and the fear is that ultimately his uncontrolled feelings will let him down - let  _ Zayn  _ down.

He could really do without that kind of pressure, but then again when has he  _ ever _ run from a challenge?

If Zayn’s willing to trust him with that very special and particular part of himself, Liam will more than demonstrate his trustworthiness, no matter the cost.

  
  


**

 

Zayn had casually mentioned that he’d be away for the week, and of course, Liam jumps on the internet the following Monday to see if he can get an idea of where he’ll be.

Nothing.

No concerts, no interviews or PAs scheduled.

Could be a vacation of some sort, though why he’d need a vacation given that he’s been pretty quiet for the past 6 months Liam couldn’t say.

Of course it could just be his way of preventing Liam getting in touch. Not like Zayn wouldn’t do exactly that.

So, just let it go then.

  
  


**

 

By Tuesday he’s casually walking Loki the other side of the park, taking the opportunity to show his dog another part of their area - the posh part, the part where Zayn’s made his home. 

And Loki would definitely appreciate seeing those extra big houses down that leafy road. He’d definitely be interested in learning that some of those houses aren’t single occupancy homes, but divided - artfully and expertly - into large flats.

Going up to one of those houses just to get a better look - so Loki could get to see the difference between the former as opposed to the latter - doesn’t hurt either.

Loki, after sniffing the bushes for a little eventually looks attentively up at him, as if to say, ‘And? What next, fool?’

Clearly his dog has spent too long with his sister.

“Get out them bushes, Loki! I told you not to go in there.” He has the gift, of course, having had vocal training to project his voice without effort, and privately thinks he’s doing a pretty good job.

Loki yawns.

After a few minutes doing his best impression of a ham actor, he realises that the house is unoccupied and the neighbours are probably in the process of calling the police.

Do they even k _ now _ who’s living next door?

But then, from what he’s heard, posh people tended not to get excited about anything so common as celebrity neighbours.

He wonders if there’d ever come a time when he too would display a similar attitude.

  
  


**

  
  


Though he promises Loki (at length, with unnecessary vowing and symbolic gestures) they’ll never go back there, he’s back by Thursday evening, trying the same stunt - with admittedly a little more panache this time.

Even Loki seems, by now, to recognise the game and is a lot more willing to play.

But zayn isn’t home - no-one is.

Okay, so Zayn clearly intends to be the one calling the shots, and maybe it’s time to allow him to do just that.

  
  


**

 

When he takes Loki for his walk on Friday he makes a point of going nowhere near that side of the park.

Loki gives him a knowing look and is extra playful and affectionate, even makes a fuss when he drops him off later at Molly’s.

God, even his dog thinks he’s pathetic.

 

**

 

His set that night at the club is extra soulful as he does what he always does - projects into the future.

His mum has always lamented his propensity to write and sing ‘ever so depressing’ songs, but ‘they do suit your voice, though, sweetheart, so I suppose it’s okay’. 

Well, just as well, since love songs for him  _ are _ synonymous with heartbreak, and though he doesn’t have a relationship with Zayn that’s broken him, he knows that at some point it will, and puts all of that into his voice.

The crowd seem to appreciate it, the applause and whistles a little more intense, a little louder and more protracted than usual.

He sings here every week because frankly, he’d go mad if he couldn’t, but he no longer expects anything to come from it, nothing outside of the sheer joy of performing, of reaching into his own soul and baring it for himself, for others to see.

But tonight, as he prepares to complete his session, he looks out and sees, at the back of the room, the very last person he’d ever expected to see, and his heart starts a furious thumping.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to say sorry for not being able to update as frequently as I'd like. Life and all that, you know. Also thank you for leaving kudos and commentary - I really appreciate every single one - and I'll definitely try to catch up on the ones I missed xxx
> 
> As for the story, well, it's complicated and will continue to be so. I know, not very helpful, but there ya go ;)

“Get you one?” He indicates his wine glass.

“No, I don’t usually drink here.” He’s trying to remain calm, but isn’t convinced his thumping heart isn’t doing a good impression of a simplistic cartoon heart, thumping and jumping from his chest. What he really wants to say is: “I can’t do this, don’t make me do this. Not here, not now.”

Well, Bryan seems to get it because he stands, an uncommonly serious expression on his face, gaze fixed on Liam’s eyes. “Can we talk? Please?”

Liam stares hard at him for a moment, not knowing what to think, feel or say. “I’m tired. This probably isn’t the best-“

“I understand that.” He seems to want to reach for him, stops himself.

His eyes are mesmerising Liam. He’s never seen that intensity outside the bedroom and has to look away, unsure what he’s meant to do with it.

“Liam, I promise that after we’ve talked I’ll leave it alone. I just feel we both need to get some things cleared up. Fair enough?”

Liam looks at him, unable to form words because while he isn’t sure he wants this, he’s equally unsure that he can honestly say he  _ doesn’t _ .

  
  


**

 

Bryan’s different; he sees that immediately.

He allows Liam to take the lead, pretty much acceding to all his suggestions, the new found humility so obvious, so present it’s almost tangible.

They sit for a while in the familiar, expensive scent of Bryan’s car, neither of them finding a way to break the increasingly uncomfortable silence.

They’ve driven a little way from the club, found a relatively quiet spot with no traffic, no scenery, nothing to distract from the conversation Bryan’s sure they need to have.

Liam is fairly certain he knows what Bryan will say and really wants no part of it.

He doesn’t want to forgive him, doesn’t want to try again, doesn’t want to be called upon to explain a damn thing.

He will never be unfaithful, therefore the  _ fact _ of Zayn complicates things in a way he’s fully aware of and knows should make him finally end it for good with Bryan.

But a part of him is also fully aware that Zayn’s an unattainable dream while Bryan is here; right here and right now.

“I’m pretty tired, Bryan. Like I said.”

Bryan doesn’t respond straight away, unless the way he looks at him, eyes soft and filled to the brim with unfeigned affection counts as a response.

“You’re really good,” he says eventually, a hint of wonder in his voice. “I had no idea.”

Liam looks at him. “You had the opportunity to come see me. You were always too busy.” He hadn’t realised till now just how much that had bothered him. He hadn’t made a big deal of it, hoping that his boyfriend would understand just how much it meant to him to have his support.

But Bryan was self-centred, selfish – he’d known that going in, so he hadn’t blamed anyone but himself for those admittedly unrealistic expectations.

So why, then, was he so pissed off now?

Bryan has the grace to look away. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be that good and I didn’t want you making a fool of yourself in front of me.” He sounds contrite, unsure of himself.

This only serves to fuel Liam’s anger. “Thanks, mate. Thanks for the support, the faith.”

“Well, I never pretended to be that bright.” He is trying to meet his eye, persevering even in the face of Liam’s stubborn non-co-operation. “I have never felt this way before, Liam. It wasn’t cos I’d be embarrassed, it’s cos I thought me being there would make you nervous and if it went wrong you’d feel worse _ knowing _ I was there. Even the  _ thought _ of you hurting hurt me and I wasn’t sure I could handle it. Like I said, I’m just not used to feeling this way.  I don’t get jealous, I don’t get obsessed, and I definitely don’t fucking  _ care _ that way.” He snorts quietly to himself. “ It’s been a real roller coaster ride falling in love with you.”  He stares at him for a moment longer before turning to look out the window.

Liam swallows, surprised; he certainly hadn’t been expecting that, yet he’s still a little peeved at what he sees as subtle manipulation. “I’m not in love with you.” 

He isn’t entirely sure whether or not he wants to hurt Bryan, but isn’t about to lie to him, tell him anything other than the plain truth, whether that hurts him or not.

“Doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” Bryan turns to him once more. “And, mate, I do think you have feelings for me. Obviously I think I probably fucked things up with my juvenile display the other day.  No, I bloody well know I did. All I’m asking is whether you’d be willing to give us another go. No, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a saint, but I can only be who I am. I’ll also be the first to acknowledge that I’m not the greatest catch, that I have some major stuff to work on.” He takes a breath. “Look, I just don’t know how to be in love, don’t really know how to be in a relationship, if I’m honest. I am admitting that upfront, but I know I’m in love with you and I’m asking for you to give me a chance to be with you, learn with you, learn  _ from _ you.” He’s staring hard at Liam’s profile and Liam fears that if he doesn’t speak, respond soon he’ll just keep  _ on _ staring.

“Bry...”

“I’m not a racist, Liam. I promise you. I honestly and sincerely from the bottom of my heart apologise for the stuff I said, the way I said it. It’s just I was so bloody jealous. I swear to god it came on me like a red mist and I lashed out in the nastiest, most hateful way I could think of. I honestly cringe when I think of the way I acted, but I’d hate for you to think less of me because of a momentary rush of blood to the head.” His sigh is deep, raw, almost painful for Liam to hear. “I hardly bloody recognise myself these days. You make me lose my cool - so fucking much. To be honest, Liam, until that day I had no idea how deeply in love with you I was. And look, man, I’m not a fool, even if nothing happened with him I could see you were attracted to him. Are you honestly telling me I had no reason to be jealous?”

Liam gives a non-committal shrug. “He’s straight.”

Bryan continues to stare at him. “And is that supposed to make a difference? I mean is that your answer to the question because way I see it it’s not about him being attracted to you or even reciprocating your feelings. It’s about you wanting another guy.  That’s what I’m jealous about. So tell me I have no reason to be jealous.”

“We’re finished so no, you don’t have a reason to be jealous.”

He knows that hurts him, but Bryan surprises him with his lack of response.

He simply sits there, waiting for him to say more; what, complete the job of ripping his heart out by the roots?

Liam hates this, hates the emotional pain that always accompanies these occasions.

He does want it over with, but believes that not hurting Bryan would be, by far, the better resolution.

Clean is  _ always _ better.

“You don’t want me?” Liam can tell Bryan’s trying to keep the hurt and vulnerability from his voice, but unusually for him seems quite unable to control his emotions tonight.

And if Liam’s honest with himself he’ll admit that the only time he’s ever seen him lose control of his too cool for school persona  is when he lost it when he saw him with Zayn.

Feeling guilty right now would be utterly counterproductive, so he makes a conscious effort and pushes it away from him.

“Bryan, yes, I’m attracted to this other guy and the thing is we’re  _ friends _ , so I’ll keep seeing him,  _ keep _ being attracted to him. I don’t think it’s fair to you for me to put you in a position to constantly be jealous. It’s probably for the best that it happened when it did and the way it did. I’m not going to hurt you any more than I have already by talking about what we could have had. I don’t know if it would have worked out between us, but can’t help thinking that you’re probably better off with someone who’ll be completely committed to you – and your relationship. I-“

“If you hadn’t met him we would have worked, wouldn’t we?”

Liam sighs. “I don’t know.” He turns to him with a degree of reluctance; he isn’t sure he won’t change his mind if he allows Bryan to trap him in the tractor beam of his gaze. “You made me happy, I can sincerely say that, and I am sorry it ended the way it did.”

“Does it really have to end, Liam? Really?” His voice is all honey and persuasion, the addition of sincerity making for a really potent, near irresistible brew.

“Thing is I’m just not interested in entertaining your jealousy, Bryan. We’ve both been pretty honest about what’s going on with us. And yes, we could carry on, try again with all that between us, but, mate, I don’t want to. I don’t want to constantly second guess myself when I’m with him, wondering what you’ll be thinking, what you’ll be feeling. I don’t want to come home and see the doubt and suspicion in your eyes. What kind of relationship could we really have in those circumstances?”

Bryan’s staring again. “I really am not racist.” His usually golden skin has paled and his eyes have turned a deep, melancholy green.

Liam feels like a bloody sadist. “Mate, I promise you, I know. I know.” He desperately wants to touch him, heart aching, not only for Bryan, but for himself, now, too.

He has no intention of telling Bryan how hard it is to let go.

Bryan gives a little chuckle, which holds not even a hint of anything approaching amusement. “And yet that’s why we’ve ended up here, isn’t it? If I hadn’t said what I said I don’t think we’d be here now. I think you’d have been able to come back from anything else – calling  you a ho, a cheater – but calling him what I did,  _ that’s _ what you couldn’t forgive, isn’t it?”

Liam doesn’t reply, startled by Bryan’s insight. He’d told himself that Bryan had no insight, no comprehension of the niceties of real human decency, but he can see how wrong he’s been about him.

The ache of loss skitters tauntingly across his consciousness.

“You’re in love with him.”

The words feel like expertly aimed and weighted blows to his solar plexus.

He’d never, not even during the previous weeks allowed himself to go there, leaving it instead to the man who apparently  _ knows  _ what loves looks like to let him know.

“I’m sorry.”

  
  


**

 

The night drags painfully.

He’s willing sleep to come his way, so he can drop down into the black comfort of oblivion, but his mind will not allow it, throwing pictures and images his way till he wants to scream.

Loki seems to pick up on his mood because he comes into his room at 3, comes up to the bed, asking for affection.

“Hi, boy. Can’t sleep either, eh? Fancy going for an early morning jog?”

Loki runs to get his lead.

 

**

 

It starts in the park, but somehow ends up outside Zayn’s door.

Lights are on in the flat upstairs (which Liam has decided is probably where the security team live) and there are cars outside.

His heart starts racing.

He’s back.

Probably came back late last night.

Not that that matters.

And what the hell does he think he’s doing here, anyway?

If the security guys are doing their job they’ll probably be out here in a second to run him out of-

Loki starts wailing.

There is no other way to put it.

He sits on his haunches, points his snout to the sky, and starts howling – like a wolf.

Mortified, Liam tries to hush him and when that’s unsuccessful, starts tugging on his lead so they can make their escape.

Loki doesn’t move.

Panicking, he notices a curtain move upstairs, swiftly followed by movement and noise in the house.

God, he’s in trouble.

Should he run and leave Loki to his fate?

Then Loki gets to his feet, tail furiously wagging.

He lets out an excited woof and then another.

The door opens and Zayn’s there, looking wide awake, alert, absolutely delighted.

Loki rushes like a bullet from a gun and practically bowls him over.

Anyone would think  _ Zayn _ was his master.

“Mate, I’m so sorry. We couldn’t sleep and Loki wanted to go for a walk. The park was a bit dark so we-“

“Come in.” He’s grinning, mostly at Loki, and doesn’t wait for Liam to finish his pathetic excuse before turning back into the hallway, Loki leading the way.

Liam follows, wondering who the fuck his dog actually is and why he loves Zayn so damn much.

Did he bloody well orchestrate this just so he could see Zayn again?

As he carefully closes the door behind him he gives himself a vigorous shake because clearly, clearly he must be in really desperate need of sleep...


	11. Chapter 11

The Flat looks different.

It’s only been a week and yet he’s completely overhauled the place.

Liam can’t imagine why, except when you’re filthy rich you can afford to act on a momentary whim and completely change the decor and layout of your already perfect living space.

This elicits a dull burn somewhere in his gut, made up of equal parts envy and resentment, which he is careful to summarily dismiss.

What, after all, is the point of wanting what you can never have and, furthermore, resenting someone for doing what you didn’t have the guts to do?

No, he’d had the opportunity, same way Zayn had, the difference was he’d been too chicken to take his.

And who knows, maybe all of this could even be regarded as fitting punishment; the shoving in his face of a parade of missed opportunities, snapshots of what his life could have been had he been braver.

And then there was, of course, Zayn himself.

Had he taken the opportunity to change his life the way Zayn had might they have been colleagues, good friends even, before now?

He isn’t really sure they’re  _ friends _ , not in the way he’d generally define friend, because, well, he isn’t attracted to his friends, isn’t in danger of falling in love with any of his friends.

Falling in love, though.

_ Is _ it love? Really?

Bryan said it, and the words, even the plain fact that he’d said them, undoubtedly sparked  _ something _ in Liam, but was that something love? What he feels for Zayn, is that  _ love _ ?

He’s very attracted to him, can’t deny that, but then that’s a given, surely – he’s attracted to guys and Zayn’s a seriously attractive guy.

But still, none of that could be or even should be construed as love.

The only reason Bryan thinks Liam’s in love with Zayn is because he chose him over Bryan, but the truth is Liam wasn’t even sure he was going to end it with Bryan (hasn’t in his head truly ended it with Bryan (he just fears that Bryan’s ended it with him)) until Bryan  _ told _ him he was in love with Zayn - and nothing in him denied it.

It had truly been like a mini epiphany, but it hadn’t come from  _ him _ ; it had been an idea thrust at him in a vulnerable moment, the momentum of which had led him on a path the destination, even the wisdom of which, is still mired in uncertainty.

Zayn’s straight, and clever, and obviously adept at playing games.

Well, Liam does and doesn’t mind this.

He’d likely mind a lot less had he known Zayn better, but the truth is he doesn’t know Zayn at all. The plain fact that Zayn’s more than happy to fuck with him should, by all rights, make him very, very wary, and well, since he isn’t stupid he  _ is _ wary, he just fears that he isn’t wary _ enoug _ h, certainly not enough to turn tail and simply walk away from what he knows is a contest in which he is badly overmatched.

He knows with every atom in his body that should he fall any deeper he stands to get hurt, maybe even badly hurt.

And there may have been a time when he might have claimed not to have minded the prospect of getting hurt; might have asserted that it would all have been worth it, maybe even gone on to trot out such idiotic platitudes like: you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs, along with a raft of similarly brainless clichés.

He might even have slightly meant it too.

Now? Not so much.

But he is so fucking  _ impulsive _ when it comes to this guy.

He 100% absolutely fucking hates himself for that, but what can you do?

Matt, bless his blackened soul, would have had a field day with him, and, for onc would have been well within his rights to roast Liam for his stupidity.

Matt, dear, empathetic friend that he is, has more than once suggested Liam go back to women; opines that he clearly isn’t ready to embrace the gay lifestyle, and Liam’s always chosen to ignore him, fully aware that no, Matt isn’t joking around, that he genuinely believes that Liam would be happier being straight.

He chooses to ignore him because while he knows Matt is dead wrong, he just can’t deny the evidence which screams otherwise, and since he doesn’t yet have the tools to argue his case and  _ win _ elects to let Matt have what  _ he _ perceives as the victory.

Liam knows damn well he’s still got a long way to go on this journey of acceptance.  Bryan had seemed like a massive step in the right direction, but he’s fucked that one up good and proper, he knows he has.

He just doesn’t know how to fix it or that he even deserves to.

The plain fact is he wasn’t ready for Bryan, not ready yet to have the relationship Bryan was offering, and if he’s honest Zayn seems to be the latest excuse he’s using to stay exactly where he is.

He can’t  even tell himself that he’ll just enjoy Zayn, enjoy all that this friendship brings, stay totally aware and in control, because he suspects that while he probably isn’t in love with Zayn right now he is a mere smile, an unexpected gesture away from that state, and besides, when feelings are involved how much control does anyone have?

He knows he’s already attempting to distance himself, pretend to himself, convince himself he’s staying in control; that’s what the resentment over Zayn’s wealth is designed to facilitate – erecting barriers between yourself and the love, the admiration; hoping and hoping for the best.

Yeah, right.

“I know we said Saturday, but I was thinking maybe a _ little _ later in the day.”

Zayn’s playing with, paying attention to Loki so it takes a second for Liam to realise that he’s being addressed.

He blushes because how could you not? You’ve rocked up to this guy’s place (when for all you know he isn’t even there) at 4 in the morning – with your dog. How are you not going to be fucking mortified?

“Blame Loki.” he suggests, hoping there’s only the teeniest trace of whine in his voice.

Zayn looks up at him, eyes glinting in what could be amusement, could be disdain, then grins.

He looks extremely chipper considering the hour and the fact that he must have been travelling all day.

Liam has no clue where he’s been or what he’s been doing, so has no basis for this conclusion but it seems likely.

“Oh? What did he do?”

Oh for fuck’s...Clearly it was a rhetorical statement and he bloody well knows that Zayn is fully aware of that, so equally clear is his intention to give Liam a hard time.

Question is, is Liam willing to play?

Well, no, not really, but since he’s rocked up to his place and Zayn hasn’t really said a word about that, maybe he does deserve a few burns. “Well, he wouldn’t stop howling until I got up out me bed and fetched his lead.” He and Loki exchange a look. Well, it’s true; he suggested the walk – a mere  _ suggestion _ , just for shits and giggles - and Loki went and fetched his lead. Ergo: Loki’s to blame.

Zayn’s turned his attention to Loki again. “Mind if I take him for a walk some time?” He says this very casually but Liam knows he’s anything but casual.

He watches for a moment; Zayn with his dog, the bond between them almost palpable, and isn’t at all sure what he’s feeling.

Except how the hell could he deny Loki this?

He obviously adores Zayn and the feeling is clearly entirely mutual.

Of course when Zayn heads off, as he’s bound to do, Loki will feel the loss, but Loki’s a G – he’ll take it in his stride. In fact, come to think of it, it wouldn’t hurt to take a few lessons from his dog–enjoy the moment for what it is, don’t fret about tomorrow.

Yeah, he should adopt that philosophy starting right now.

“So long as you’re prepared to put up with a whole lot of whingeing and rank disobedience on a regular, being made a show off- also on the regular...”

Zayn’s laughter does what it always does, lifts his spirits, bringing an involuntary smile to his face.

“Oh, you think I’m joking, don’t you? Just wait.”

  
  


**

 

Zayn insists on putting them up for the remainder of the night.  

He doesn’t even try to make a logical ‘argument’; he just tells them to stay.

Liam knows not to make a fuss, partly because of the residual guilt from the rocking up at dawn thing, but also because he suspects Zayn has an aversion to the word ‘no’.

He idly wonders if Zayn’s bossy by nature or if it’s a muscle developed once he got rich and could pay people to do his bidding.

Liam doesn’t exactly like it, but it’s Zayn, comes with the territory in other words, and if they’re going to be associating with each other something he’ll simply have to put up with.

There’s only one spare bedroom, but one bedroom is all Liam needs.

It’s enormous, with its own en suite facilities and he forces himself not to act like a stunned mullet, aware by his manner that Zayn really doesn’t appreciate fuss.

“Really appreciate it, mate.”

“No problem, just don’t be expecting no breakfast in bed or nothing.” He’s leaning in the doorway, grinning, and looks so delicious Liam is momentarily lost for words. “Alright if I take him for a walk first thing?”  He’s looking like he fears Liam will come up with an excuse for him not to, which Liam finds both puzzling and just a little amusing.

“Well, make sure he gets his beauty sleep; he can be a bit of a stubborn, lazy little bastard if he don’t. You could call him till you’re red in the face and he’ll just lie there, pretending not to hear you.”

Zayn’s amusement makes  Liam silently wonder if perhaps he thinks he’s exaggerating.

Well, Loki’s been on his best behaviour with Zayn, might be nice for Zayn to witness the disrespectful, way-too-clever-for-his-own-good, pain-in-the arse his dog can be.

Oh well.

“Sleep tight.” He’s still grinning, looking forward no doubt to his walk with Loki later.

Liam thanks him, also looking forward, in his own way, for his own reasons, to the aftermath of the walk.

Oh they’ll still be tight, no doubt, but maybe once Zayn sees Loki’s true colours he’ll have a tad more sympathy for him.

But because Loki  _ is _ a pain in the arse he’ll no doubt be an absolute prince and get Zayn to fall even more in love with him.

Yeah, he muses, as he heads to the bathroom – that’s far more likely.

  
  


**

 

Zayn clearly likes him, that’s what he doesn’t completely get.

Well, Liam knows that his real interest is in Loki –that’s how they met in the first pace - but he isn’t so far gone as to think that it’s all about Loki.

Zayn is not the type of bloke to suffer fools gladly –not even to get friendly with their dog –so he definitely knows Zayn likes him.

He also knows that Zayn knows he’s queer – that is pretty fucking obvious, even down to the way he flirts with him, the way he talks to him. He definitely wouldn’t act that way with a guy he thought was straight.

Had Zayn sussed out he wasn’t straight from the first meeting?

Very likely, actually.

Well, the way he was blushing and not meeting his eye, yeah –totally not straight.

But what does it all mean to Zayn, to him, to their friendship?

Would it be better to just put their cards on the table, for Zayn to say:  _ I don’t have a problem with gays, even ones clearly attracted to me. It won’t affect the way I see you or the nature and course of our friendship. I just want to know you understand that, understand that we’re friends – same way I’m friends with guys who are straight. _

And maybe he should be completely upfront with him, say something like; _ I find you attractive, I admire you as a person and an artist, but you’re straight. I know and respect that and therefore you need never have cause to question the nature of our friendship. None of that will ever be a factor in our interactions. _

Yeah, that would be great, get all of that out on the table, would certainly make things a lot easier all round.

Except they’re blokes and aside from that abortive talk with Bryan he has never once talked feelings with another bloke, even Matt tends to shy away from that sort of thing.

Thus far and no further.

He honestly doesn’t know how women do it – they talk it out at the drop of a bloody hat! And he can’t do that –not even with his mum, not even with his sisters.

So he for sure isn’t going to talk it out like that with Zayn.

Because there is  _ something _ about Zayn...

From the start there’s been something tapping at the edges of his awareness and he’s (almost unconsciously) refused to let it see the bright light of day.

The funny thing he’s finally worked out about Zayn is that he doesn’t want to acknowledge that Liam knows him as Zayn: Zayn the actor, Zayn the star.

There’s always been this weird unspoken thing that at first Liam just took as read- Zayn’s famous  and he knows who Zayn is- but he’s finally come to the conclusion that the whole fucking point about this, about what’s going on here is that he’s never to  _ acknowledge _ who Zayn is; that they’re to act like Zayn’s just a guy he met in the park, that his wealth comes from somewhere, some unknown means, and furthermore it’s never to be addressed or referenced - ever.

They can basically only be this way, have this friendship so long as he never, ever acts like he’s aware Zayn is who he is.

Crazy.

But doable.

In fact, if he’s honest with himself, something that makes him feel so much more comfortable, competent - capable.

If he can regard Zayn as just an ordinary bloke he’s just met, then everything gets so much easier.

Now to actually try to do that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quickie to aplogise for the sporadic nature of updates. Expect it to continue for a while, though.
> 
> Life is kicking my arse right now.
> 
> Also don't expect a quick resolution - it'll be a while. Only fair to let you know in case you wanna bail.  
> In any case, thanks for reading.

“What?”

“Sorry?”

“The look on your face.”  Though Zayn isn’t smiling, Liam can see he’s amused.

He’s sitting at the table, a plate of eggs, tomatoes and two big burgers in front of him. There’s a plate opposite, which Liam presumes is meant for him.

Loki’s in the corner, a lazy thump of his tail and a barely discernible glance in his direction the only acknowledgement he gets.

Charming.

Out all night with Zayn and he doesn’t have the courtesy to even  _ pretend _ to be remorseful.

Or even particularly pleased to see him.

Man’s best friend right there...

Absently he starts to pull out the chair.

“Get your food, mate,” Zayn says, nodding in the direction of the counter where Liam belatedly notices that there are several hot plates and quite a few stainless steel containers presumably filled with food – lots and lots of food.

Wow; he has a  _ choice _ ?  

“Right,” he says, trying to act as if this is a common occurrence. “Didn’t realise I was supposed to help meself.”

“Well, who else is gonna help you?” He places a light, but unmistakable emphasis on ‘help’,  regarding Liam with a challenging, albeit ultimately teasing look in his eye.

It is way too early for this – he’s barely awake, so how the hell can he be expected to joust with Zayn in that under par state?

And how much bloody sleep did Zayn even get?

_ Does _ he sleep?

Is that what happens when you’re a superstar, your sleep cycle becomes ridiculous, inhuman?

“Mate,” he pleads, hoping the whine in his voice is enough to let Zayn know that he’s demonstrably fragile and really rather stupid in the mornings – especially weekends....

Zayn rolls his eyes, but the fact that he doesn’t follow up, instead takes the opportunity to fork some scrambled egg into his mouth, assures Liam that he’s taking pity on him.

Liam looks across at Loki, who’s pretending to sleep.

Great, no help from that quarter then.

Hmm, maybe just as well, since Liam has no doubt his dog would, in any case, side with Zayn.

He’d  tried his very best to stay awake in the hopes of catching their early morning excursion, but since the first thing he can recall after making that firm and stalwart vow is Zayn’s brisk knock on the door followed by an invitation to breakfast a mere 15 minutes ago, clearly he’d failed.

But if he knew Loki, the little minx had more than likely been on his best behaviour anyway, probably would be for a good while to come.

He’s a canny little so-and-so after all.

He sighs in regretful contemplation of the days when Loki had been a wide-eyed pup, happy to obey, happy to hang on his every word.

Now, look at him.

“I take it his Lordship’s had his brekkie already.”

They both look toward the ‘sleeping’ form.

“Yeah, he’s had his fill. We went for a long walk earlier.”

Liam can hear the smile in Zayn’s voice, which makes him roll his eyes. “Where? Round the park?”

“Partly.”

Liam glances at him, quite able to read the tone of his voice:  _ That’s all you’re getting, don’t bother to ask more, _ and, like he’s been doing ever since meeting Zayn, obeys it, reaching automatically for a subject change.

Whoever made the breakfast/lunch, and it never occurs to him that it could be Zayn, has been very generous with the variety and quantity of dishes on offer. There’s enough there to feed a household of very hungry people and he idly puts it down to the fact of Zayn’s wealth and willingness to conspicuously consume, called for or not.

But minutes after helping himself and taking his plate back to the table, the door opens and the guy he was hoping to never, ever see again, let alone now, when he’s not feeling – or looking - his best, saunters in.

Zayn doesn’t even pause in the act of eating, barely glancing up at the newcomer, while Liam freezes, heart hammering as he watches his progress, pretty much stunned into immobility.

He brings with him the scent of expensive cologne, money and obnoxious arrogance.

Glancing briefly at Liam he makes a face before looking away, almost theatrically  _ ignoring _ him.

“You had any kip?” He’s from the Midlands, which surprises Liam, conversely making him dislike him even more. He’s very aware that in other circumstances, meaning if it hadn’t been this dickhead, he’d be pleased, more than likely pretty inclined to be well-disposed toward the guy.

Zayn shrugs. “A bit.” He sounds a little testy as if he doesn’t appreciate the question.

This both intrigues Liam as well as making him irrationally dislike the guy even more.

“You  _ buying _ the dog?”  He says this in such a dismissive way Liam just  _ has _ to say something.

“Not for sale, mate.” He meets his eye, or at least  _ tries _ to; pretty hard when the other person is acting like you’re invisible, certainly inaudible.

Dickhead.

“Don’t be stupid,” Zayn says, but he’s injected a certain degree of mildness into his tone, and offers a smile, which weirdly, doesn’t seem to be directed at anyone or anything in particular.

This makes Liam wonder if he’s uncomfortable. Can’t say for sure, though, because, well, it’s Zayn they’re talking about.

“You still on for later?” Dickhead’s helping himself from the hotplates and Liam is silently, fervently praying he’s going to take his meal with him when he leaves...

“Man, stop worrying. Everything’s cool.” Zayn catches Liam’s eye and rolls his own eyes – subtly, making sure the guy doesn’t see.

This, stupidly, makes Liam feel a lot better.

So, Zayn thinks he’s a dickhead, too.

Good to know.

“Well, I’ll get on to Staks and then meet up later.”

“Cool.” Zayn cuts off a fair sized piece of burger and puts it into his mouth, making a point of moving his attention to the act of eating.

Liam doesn’t need a written sign to know what that means.

He just hopes the dickhead leaves before his ability to enjoy his own meal has been irrevocably damaged.

The dickhead takes far longer than he needs to over his plate, considering that all he ends up with are eggs and an equally meagre selection of vegetables.

Liam does his best to keep the internal sneer, strictly internal.

He might even have respected him a tad had he put a bit of  _ meat _ on his plate. As it stands the fact that he can’t even eat properly draws nothing but contempt.

He keeps his head down and concentrates on eating, waiting for him to leave.

Dickhead takes forever.

But Zayn doesn’t attempt to engage him in conversation, Liam certainly doesn’t, so he does eventually leave, taking his dickhead self with him.

Liam has to force himself to keep his head down,  _ not _ give him the finger as the door closes in his wake.

It’s been a really, really long time since he’s taken such an intense and immediate dislike to someone.

Doesn’t even know the dickhead’s name.

Well, deep down he  _ knows _ it’s a bad idea, but not only would it be weird  _ not _ to ask, but hell he wants to know.

“Who was that then?” he asks as casually, as naturally as he can.

Zayn looks up at him, and without breaking eye contact simply says. “No-one.”

For a moment Liam holds his stare, struggling to school his expression, all too aware of the stark shock and puzzlement that must be written on his face.

Zayn continues to challenge him with his steady regard, and eventually Liam folds, breaking eye contact,  _ allowing _ himself to be intimidated.

He’s incredibly pissed off, not least because he knows he has no real right to be.

Zayn, from the outset, has made it abundantly clear that he’ll tell him what he wants to tell him and what he  _ doesn’t _ want to tell him Liam doesn’t get to know, so it’s not like he has the  _ right _ to expect anything from him.

He’s just not used to people acting that way – not  _ polite _ people, anyway.

But Zayn isn’t exactly polite – he’s a superstar and the usual rules and conventions simply don’t apply.

Despite all that, Liam really wants to say something, something whiny and undoubtedly intrinsically passive aggressive, but knows already that this will prove detrimental to his position with Zayn. So the part of him that isn’t bristling with ego takes control, does its best to calm him the fuck down.

There’s a plate of food in front of him, there to fill his gob, stop him making a fool of himself so he takes advantage of it, though that egoless part of him can’t seem to do anything about the internal seething.

The dickhead has a lot to answer for because for all that Zayn’s the offender right now, the offence wouldn’t have arisen had the dickhead not been a factor.

Zayn isn’t talking and he isn’t talking so they complete their meal in silence, which ironically seems to do the trick.

He’d had more on his plate than Zayn, but somehow finishes before him and decides to make a joke of it, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Mate, come on, you’re making me look like a right guts.”

Zayn grins. “No comment, mate.”

Liam chuckles, leans back in his seat and rubs his flat belly. “It’s why I work out.”

“Yeah.” He pops the last bite of bread in his mouth, pushes his plate away and smiles at him. “Not bad, even if I do say so myself.”

“No way you made that by yourself,” Liam says with conviction. “No way.”

Zayn shrugs. “Never said I did. Just said it were good.”

“Right,” he says, mollified. “It  _ was _ really good. Been a while since I had a big brekkie like that.”

“Yeah? You need to come over more often then.”

For a moment Liam is caught with nothing to say.

Was that a subtle invitation?

A throwaway line that no-one’s supposed to take as anything more than a line?

What?

“Mate, you sure? I’d eat you out of house and home – in no time.”

Another shrug. “You could try.”

Another slightly awkward silence as Liam tries to work out Zayn’s tone.

Why is Zayn so fucking difficult?

Women are hard to read, men aren’t supposed to be.

So why the fuck is Zayn so hard to read?

“Okay, I tell you what, I’ll come over next week – if you’re around. See if your cupboard and fridge can take it. If you’re still solvent we’ll make it a standing invitation.”

Zayn laughs, and Liam can see that he’s genuinely amused, he just isn’t entirely sure why.

But that’s nothing unusual; he’s often not entirely sure as to the cause of Zayn’s amusement, pretty certain it more often than not won’t be what he expects it to be. “You’re on.”

“And only fair for me to return the favour.” He waits with bated breath for Zayn’s response, belatedly aware that he’s possibly put both of them in a slightly awkward position.

Zayn rewards him with yet another shrug, which again he can’t quite read, no more than he can read the  _ tone _ of his response. “Up to you.”

Well, that was underwhelming, but at least it hadn’t been an outright:  _ “Nah, mate, forget it”, _ which, as far as Liam’s concerned makes it a  _ positive _ response.

“Don’t worry, no bacon or sausage on the menu.”

While Zayn’s expression doesn’t change, his demeanour certainly does.

Okay, maybe they don’t know each other well enough yet to ‘joke’ about things like that, and maybe best not to compound the error by dwelling on it.

In fact it’d probably be a great time to offer to clear away, even wash up.

But when he offers Zayn regards him with the same unchanged expression and tells him to leave it.

Okay then...

**

Loki’s woken up and is ready to play.

Liam’s been in his room for the past two hours.

Zayn excused himself soon after that awkward interlude and is presumably catching up on his affairs.

Despite the awkwardness there’s been no hint that Zayn’s ready for him to leave.

Clearly he’s busy and won’t be including Liam in whatever he’s currently engaged in, but he was invited over and obviously Zayn has plans for later.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to head home in the meantime, catch up on his own affairs, but there’s a small part of him that secretly fears the door being forever barred to him should he be foolish enough to leave right now.

He knows it’s crazy, yet Zayn is so unpredictable it can’t be entirely dismissed.

But at least Loki’s ready to remember he exists.

He’s scratching at the door, calling to Liam and when it opens bounds in, bowls him over, doing his best to give a solid impression of a dog who’s truly missed his master...

Yeah, right.

Would have been a lot more convincing had it not been clear that since Zayn’s busy elsewhere the only outlet is muggins, here.

No wonder he and Zayn get on so well – they’re both very good actors.

Still, the act’s good enough to make him feel a little better.

And of course Loki knows that.

Manipulative little so-and-so...

**

Zayn, of course, takes a fucking age to surface, and a livid Liam, is in the process of opening the front door when he hears Zayn calling to him.

He’s on the stairway leading to the flat (or, more likely, flats) upstairs and Liam’s so surprised he momentarily forgets his justifiable ire.

He was here all the time?

What the hell was he doing upstairs for that long?

“Hi, “Liam says, slightly stumbling over his words. “Was just going. I should probably get me laundry done.” Why does that sound like an apology? He doesn’t need to justify his decision to leave. Who the fuck wouldn’t after being abandoned by their host, in a bedroom, which okay does have a Playstation, fantastic sound system, books, tv, laptop, iPad, to entertain themselves for the foreseeable?

Zayn skips downstairs, catching Liam offguard with the obvious elevation in his mood.

By the look of him he’s spent at least a few of the lost hours catching up on his sleep. “Ah, mate, I’m sorry. It caught up with me and I must have dropped off.”  He is sort of smiling, but it’s an apologetic smile and when he comes close to Liam and accompanies the apology with a brief, warm squeeze of the arm, Liam immediately forgives him.

“Oh trust me, I know that feeling. His lordship here’s been kipping too.” Yeah, rather than keeping him company, his dog saw fit to express his opinion of the lack of interesting activity available to him by curling up in a corner and closing his eyes – for several hours.

Honestly, maybe he should genuinely enquire if Zayn knows of any openings in the film industry for a dog so gifted in the thespian arts...

Predictably Zayn throws a fond look in His Nibs’ direction.

His Nibs returns the favour.

Liam seethes.

“Looks like he’s ready for another walk,” Zayn says in a tone that isn’t suggestive of anything other than a command – it most certainly isn’t a mere  _ observation _ .

Liam wants to suggest he take him for a bloody walk then, but fears being left to his own devices for another two bloody hours.

“Yeah. To be honest he’s not the only one. I could do with stretching me legs a bit.” Did that sound like a barely veiled dig? Oh too bad.

He’s not exactly pissed off, but maybe a  _ little _ pissed off...

Zayn feels the sting, but clearly doesn’t give a rat’s arse about etiquette or polite behaviour so merely looks him in the eye and silently asks him to go for it then.

Liam  _ does _ give a stuff about etiquette and polite behaviour so would never even consider going for it even when his host has dickish tendencies.

“Alright to go round the park?”  Since he’s confident  _ he _ holds the moral high ground, conceding presents no real issue for him.

Something in Zayn’s expression, accompanied by the subtlest of changes in stance makes it clear he gets it.

Liam’s fairly sure that’s  _ all _ he’ll get from him, however, because when all’s said and done, Zayn’s a bloke like any other, meaning he is never, ever wrong, nor is he ever  _ in _ the wrong.

Still, the concession, subtle – beyond subtle – though it may have been is a step in the right direction.

“We could go a bit further if you like.” Zayn appears to be genuinely asking his opinion, asking  _ permission _ even, so, without hesitation, Liam grants it.

Zayn’s grin is enough to make all the previous tension simply...disappear.

He touches Liam lightly on the arm, casually asking: “You okay driving?”

“What? Yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Let me just get the keys and stuff. You ready to go?”

Still reeling, Liam silently nods, watching him disappear into what he presumes must be his bedroom.

What the heck?

He’s going to drive Zayn...somewhere...in a car?

Without his security team?

What the hell?

As he bends down to confer quietly with Loki a movement catches his eye and he looks up to find the dickhead standing at the top of the stairway, arms folded as he regards him in baleful silence.

Liam would like to say the expression on his face is unreadable, but as far as he’s concerned it’s all too easy to read, and it belatedly occurs to him that the virulent dislike is entirely mutual.


	13. Chapter 13

He likes cars.

_ Likes. _

Not obsessed with, not fanatical about, so the fact that Zayn hands him the keys to a sleek black Golf Gti is neither here nor there.

Obviously he wishes  _ he _ could drop 30k on what’s probably just a run around, but there are many things he wishes.

He absolutely refuses to be impressed.

Just as well really since Zayn doesn’t appear to be in the mood to deal with any of that shit.

In the space of several minutes his mood has gone from eager, happy to severly pised off.

Well Liam doesn’t like to say it but maybe he should have thought twice before sending Liam and Loki out to the car alone while he conferred with the Dickhead, who’d made a point of making his presence known the minute Zayn came back into the hallway..

Liam  _ could  _ have told him that stopping to give the dickhead the time of day at any stage would rest in a serious downward swing in mood.

But hey, no business of his...

 

It takes a while for Zayn to compose himself, gather himself enough to remember his manners.

Liam patiently waits.

Eventually, after strapping himself in, doing something on his phone that apparently requires every ounce of his concentration he turns to Liam and says: “Head to the Motorway.”

Liam tries not to mind the peremptory tone, saying without inflection. “Which one?”

Zayn stares blankly at him for a second, and Liam would swear that he only just stopped himself saying; “how the fuck should I know, you live here!” “Erm, I wanna go to Worcestershire.”

Okay.

Of course he could ask for further information, but he’s used to Zayn by now and understands that even in a good mood Zayn probably wouldn't give a straight answer.

And Zayn’s not in a good mood.

“Shouldn’t take too long.”

Of course with a pissed off Zayn beside him, seething (but not sharing black thoughts about the Dickeahd) it’s gonna feel like forever.

And to think he thought this was gonna be fun.

Well, one positive.

He gets to drive this car...

  
  


**

 

Well, Zayn’s a trained actor.

Zayn’s been in the public eye since he was a teenager.

Zayn is used to pretending things he doesn’t feel, so actually it doesn’t take that long for him to drop the mood.

Liam has no idea if it’s an act, but then, it’s not his place to care, is it?

Sunny Zayn beats pissed off Zayn by a country mile, after all.

They’ve driven about 5 minutes in silence and then Zayn decides to remember he’s supposed to be apologising (well that’s how Liam’s interpreting the sudden impulse to get in a car and drive to Worcestershire with him) and switches on the mp3 player.

“What you into?” he asks, a slight smile on his face.

Liam interprets the smile as: ‘you’re either gonna try to be edgy and pretend to like Grime or you’re gonna act like a typical white boy and pretend you’re into rap. Either way I’ll keep a straight face but lowkey be all condescending and shit’.

Liam gives an internal eyeroll, but returns the smile. “Don’t take the piss, but I’m really a slow jams kinda guy. Chris Brown, Usher – back in the day r’n’b to be honest.” He has he satisfaction of seeing the surprised flash of pleasure cross Zayn’s face before he merely nods and starts scrolling.

So long as he doesn’t play any of  _ his _ tracks, they’ll be golden.

He honestly has no idea how he’d react if Zayn’s songs are included in the playlist.

He knows Zayn’s playing the ‘let’s pretend we don’t know you know who I am game’ and he’s sort of, semi okay with that. He isn’t okay with the level of game he instinctively knows Zayn’s capable of playing. For instance ‘testing’ him by making him react to one of his tracks.

Hopefully he isn’t in that kind of mood because he certainly bloody isn’t.

He isn’t exactly in a bad mood.

Okay, he’s sort of in a bad mood.

The presence of the dickhead and his effect on Zayn’s mood has definitely affected his mood, but he’s quietly determined not to give the dickhead that satisfaction.

He’s going to have a good time with Zayn today if it bloody kills him.

In fact he’s going to ensure that when they get back to the flat he’ll give the dickhead a bloody nose by not only returning Zayn on a fucking high, but being _ extra _ friendly to him to make him know just how little he matters.

Yeah – good plan, excellent plan.

So, get in a good mood then...

“Don’t play ‘No Diggity’ whatever you do,” he advises Zayn. “That’s one of Loki’s favourites and unless you want to experience the pleasure of hearing my dog sing...”

So, of course, “No Diggity’ is the first track Zayn plays.

Right.

Gonna be one of them days, then.

Brilliant.

 

**

 

“Just a tour of the County of Worcestershire. Can’t think of a _ better _ way to spend my Saturday afternoon.”

Zayn’s expression says: “shut the fuck up, you miserable twat”, his voice says: “It’s a nice day, and Loki seems to be enjoying the tour.”

Liam’s snort says: “so fucking what, my dog doesn’t dictate what the fuck I do with my days”, his voice says: “Well green is his favourite colour, that is very true.”

The ensuing weighty silence is eventually broken by Loki’s timely ‘woof’ of satisfaction because apparently one country road is definitely not the same as every other country road they’ve traversed.

“No, mate, not moving to the country, no matter how much you love green.” He feels Zayn’s gaze on him, but decides not to react to whatever the fuck he’s thinking, conveying, saying without saying.

If Zayn wants to ask a question he’ll have to open his gob and bloody well ask.

His mood is better, yeah, but maybe it’s being behind the wheel or something that makes him a million times less inclined to indulge his passenger today.

They’ve had a good time if he’s honest, Loki’s presence definitely helping to ease any tension that might have been created by Liam’s bolshy attitude and Zayn’s inclination to fan the flames just by being himself.

But still...

Zayn turns to Loki. “You love the country, too? Yeah, it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Better than the city any day? Yeah, I know.”

Liam makes absolutely no attempt to hide his eyeroll.

He knows dor a fucking fact that while Zayn might profess to love the countryside, being a multi millionaire won’t be made to put his money where his mouth is and actually live there 24/7.

In fact, Liam would put actual money on the fact that he’ll likely keep an apartment – several – smack bang in the lap of civilisation, whilst extolling the virtues of country living.

Hypocritical sod.

And if he wants a dog maybe he should think about actually fucking getting one...

He shoots a not particularly friendly look at him from the corner of his eye and has the pleasure of seeing Zayn ignore it.

Twat.

The next five minutes is conducted in utter silence, Zayn not even taking the opportunity to ‘converse’ with Loki.

Awkward.

Even Liam’s a  _ little _ surprised at the uncompromisingly bolshiness of his attitude, but it is what it is.

The bigger surprise is the way Zayn’s still intent on being reasonably civil in the face of what even Liam will admit is serious provocation.

Of course he may simply be concerned at being left stranded in his beautiful countryside should he piss off the guy driving the car a little too much.

And that, presumably, is why you have a security team, and certainly don’t go off driving with guys you barely know.

Liam instinctively understands that Zayn trusts him, that his instincts are good, but still.

What if he got it into his head to knock him out, drag him to an empty barn (they’ve seen several on the tour) and keep him there to do with as he pleases?

He is, after all, an asset, which if held for ransom...

Shaking himself free of the disturbing images he’s put into his own damn head he takes the opportunity to sneak a look at the asset.

After being with Zayn for a while he’s grown accustomed to his beauty – or at least thinks he has.

Yet, every single time he’s been with Zayn, even after hours and hours of banter and ease he’ll find himself momentarily astonished anew at the perfection of his features.

He doesn’t know if it’s a thing, a thing that adheres to celebrities that literally makes them seem different to ordinary mortals.

Most of the time Zayn seems like any other bloke, and then he’ll look at him and remember who he is, see him the way that others see him, the way he sees him when he isn’t with him, the way he’s seen him for years.

This inevitably ends with him tongue tied and nervous, which is just ridiculous.

He does get the feeling, though, having seen a little of the way Zayn operates, that he plays it up when he feels like it.

Zayn is, after all, an actor. 

He’s savvy and Liam thinks, possibly a little ruthless when he wants to be, so he’d probably cultivate the aura, recognising its value in times of need.

He’s also very good at making Liam, at least, perceive him as that ordinary bloke he most certainly isn’t.

All Liam knows for sure is that Zayn’s out of his league no matter how well he slots into the frame Zayn’s currently got lined up for him.

So long as Zayn finds him diverting he’ll be in favour.

When he outlives his usefulness (whatever form that takes and he’s still struggling to work that one out) he has no doubt that Zayn will disappear from his life – probably without a trace, or warning.

Liam has absolutely no doubt that even though Zayn might trust him he’ll never be in a position to  _ hurt _ Zayn once Zayn drops him.

He is starting to get a handle on the way Zayn operates and knows he always has a reason for what he does.

He also knows that unless you need to know the reason you never will.

“You looking for something in particular?” He hopes his voice is neutral and doesn’t give away the ‘mum says you was looking to buy a property over this way’ note in it. Soon as he heard Worcestershire he recalled his mum’s words, which at the time he’d dismissed as more nonsense imbibed as a result of her seemingly terminal addiction to gossip rags.

But having spent time with Zayn he knows damn well that there is no way the gossip rags would have even an inkling of what’s really going on in his life.

They definitely wouldn’t know this.

How his mum knows this he has no bloody idea.

Zayn looks at him, clearly deciding just how much to give him.

Well, Liam doesn’t expect him to spill his secrets, just give a straight answer to a relatively straight question.

Why is that so hard for him to do?

“Not really, just looking.” He turns to look out the side window.

Okay.

Not being taken into his confidence, then.

Good.

Least it means the thing about the house is probably true then.

Liam’s fairly confident that had Zayn told him he was looking to buy something it would have been a lie, so the fact that he isn’t saying it definitely means it’s true.

He wonders if they’ve passed the property he’s interested in.

Would it hurt to just for once be straightforward in the way you do things?

Why take a person with you when you know you’re not going to tour the house you’re going to buy and certainly not let the guy with you know you’re even thinking of buying a house?

Maybe someone should let Zayn in on the fact that he isn’t in a film; that there’s nothing clever – or necessary – about being such a tricky bastard.

“I couldn’t live in the country, but it’s nice for a day out – every now and then. Speaking of which, you ever been to The Lickeys?”

“The what?”

“Lickey Hills –it’s a bit like Cannock Chase, only hills instead of- Oh for. Tell you what, why don’t I just show you?”

  
  


**

 

Liam watches Zayn and Loki play.

It’s surprisingly entertaining, relaxing even.

And he’s learned something really interesting, something he hadn’t put together until now.

Zayn isn’t used to being recognised.

Liam really should have worked it out before now.

When Liam first saw him he was in the park, acting like an ordinary person (an ordinary person with two massive guys guarding his body, but still).

He didn’t act like he thought Liam knew who he was and because Liam didn’t exactly act like he knew who he was, didn’t act like the celebrity he was.

And the big one – Bryan hadn’t known who he was.

At no point in their discussions about Zayn had Bryan indicated that he knew who Zayn was.

Liam, so used to being a fan, admiring him, recognising how astonishing he was, hadn’t conceived of anyone not knowing him, but now he thought about, it was _ entirely _ conceivable that the vast majority of the British public wouldn’t actually recognise him.

Zayn didn’t court publicity and it had always been that way, even at the height of his fame, and despite his beautiful face he hadn’t allowed that to be exploited either.

If anything he had a reputation of taking photos where his face was partly obscured either by glasses, hats, ‘positioning’ or artful effects.

Liam had simply taken all that for granted.

To him Zayn was the single most recognisable celebrity in the world.

But that wasn’t actually the case – not for the vast majority of the world.

He’d honestly been prepared once they got to Lickey to be bombarded by people asking Zayn for his autograph, demands for selfies; people just wanting to touch him.

It hadn’t been that way at all.

Yeah, they’d got a few looks, but he suspected it was most likely because those people suspected they were a couple out walking their dog, and were either curious, interested or disapproving.

He’d seen no double take or moment of recognition – not at any point.

He’d been honestly astonished.

Zayn had taken it in stride.

In a way it made the impulse to go driving with him, by himself, without his team, a little more understandable.

Zayn saw himself as an ordinary bloke (well, clearly he didn’t really) because everyone else did.

Amazing.

And happily, Zayn, genuinely loved this place.

Liam had taken Loki here once before when he’d been a pup and now honestly couldn’t understand why he hadn’t made a habit of it.

If Zayn bought a property in the county would he come here on a regular – with his dog?

Liam has no doubt Zayn’s intent on buying another dog – once he comes to terms with his grief.

He loves Loki, obviously, but well...Loki isn’t his dog, is he?

“Fancy a bite? I’m bloody starving. We could go to the shop.”

“In a bit.”

“I could go and fetch something,” he suggests, not willing to wait on Zayn. “Just tell me what you want.”

“Something hot. No curry,” he adds hastily, sharing Liam’s wry grin. “Maybe a pie – as long as it’s decent.”

“Yeah, food’s pretty decent here. Okay. Anything to drink?”

“Juice.”

“Okay. Any chocolate?”

“Anything but Snickers.”

Liam smiles to himself.

Since when is Zayn so easy to please?

 

**

Typical that it’s Loki who makes the biggest mess and they spend quite a while tidying up after him.

It’s been a successful trip and Liam has no compunction about silently patting himself on the back for thinking of it.

Zayn, for all the exotic places he must have visited in his travels seems to be quite taken with this beautiful but far from exotic or unusual park.

Liam really doesn’t understand this guy, but that’s fine, more than fine as far as he’s concerned.

Most of his friends, for all he loves them, are pretty predictable. It’s quite nice to find someone who’s likely to astonish him on a daily basis.

Of course most of his friends  _ aren’t _ multi millionaires.

And well, Zayn may as well not be either.

You certainly wouldn’t know it from spending a few hours in his company.

Liam doesn’t know how he is in different company, but in his company he genuinely acts like he has no more in the bank than Liam – less, even.

Even the car isn’t over the top. Top of the range, true, 2018 plate, but it’s a golf for god’s sake, not a Ferrari, not a Lamborghini.

His clothes are great quality, but Liam knows people who spend as much money on the jeans as Zayn obviously has – nothing beyond the reach of a guy with a decent job and an eye for quality clothes.

And the flat – high rental perhaps, but again not out of the reach of someone with a good job.

Obviously owning the actual building is a different matter, but no-one’s meant to know he owns the building.

Hell, for all Liam knows he could even be renting the place.

Some people you could ask and they’d probably be surprised, but eventually tell you.

Zayn wouldn’t tell you.

Zayn seems to only tell you something that he wants to tell you, never anything you ask him.

And unlike most people seems to feel no embarrassment or discomfort from looking you in the eye and saying (pretty much) ‘mind your own business’.

Liam’s aware of this, but resolves to keep asking – when and if he feels the need - because today he’s feeling bolshy and isn’t about to let Zayn intimidate him.

Tomorrow, who knows?

Tomorrow, is, after all, another day.

 

**

 

Zayn’s singing.

Zayn’s singing Liam’s absolute favourite track of his, and Liam has no damn idea how he’s meant to react.

Well, apparently he’s meant to take the next verse...

He hasn’t sung this in front of anyone before, but he’s sung it a hundred times by himself, for himself and it comes so naturally that there’s actually only a second’s hesitation.

Amazingly he feels no self consciousness at all, and is gratified when Zayn simply encourages him to join him in singing the chorus, and then take the final verse.

It’s absolutely exhilarating, but a part of him is relieved when Zayn allows the next track to play – not one of his – simply humming along with it, attention back on his phone.

He doesn’t seem at all surprised that Liam can sing, but  _ Liam’s _ surprised at his lack of surprise, he just doesn’t know how to say so without looking like a prat..

“What did you think of my singing then?”

Yeah, right.

But this does leave him free to sing along with other tracks and is pleased that Zayn, still on his phone, joins him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which, in any other circumstance, it sort of would be.

They’re back to the ease he often feels in Zayn’s presence and for that he can only feel equal measures of both relief and gratitude.

Of course once they get to the flat the dickhead’s presence will ensure that everyone will go back to being miserable bastards.

Twat.

 

**

 

“Oh, this you?”

Zayn’s holding one of his business cards, examining it with a critical eye.

Liam has no idea why he thinks it’s his business card – not like it has his name on it – and the subject of his profession has never arisen.

But then it was merely a question, a request for information.

“Where did you find that?”

“Must have fallen out your wallet or something.”

Yeah, it must have done.

“Yeah. Had them made last year. Been planning to get some new ones done, if I’m honest.”

Zayn’s definitely critiquing it, or something, how else to explain his protracted perusal of the few (seriously uninteresting lines) on the card. “What the fuck’s a kitchen fitter?” he eventually asks.

Liam grins. “What the fuck do you think one is?”

Zayn, also grinning, shrugs. “Some bloke who fits kitchens?”

“Got it in one.”

“Hmm, you work for yourself?”

“Now, I do, yeah.”

“Like it?”

“Pays the rent.”

“I’d have thought if you’re working in your own business it’d have to do a bit more than that.”

Liam makes a face.  “It’s hard bloody work, especially as I’m pretty much a one man band. I have someone in the office taking calls and doing me paperwork - most of it anyway - and I have someone helping me with jobs, but the heavy lifting’s done by yours truly, and honestly, the more successful I am the harder I work! Isn’t it meant to be the other way round?”

“No idea mate,” he says staring straight ahead.

There’s something in his demeanour that says quite, quite clearly that he’s hoping Liam won’t follow the logical progression of the conversational thread and turn the spotlight on what Zayn does for a living.

Though Liam knows for sure he won’t tell the truth, he suspects he wouldn’t tell an outright lie so is almost tempted to put it to the test.

But he wants to spend a few more hours in Zayn’s company and knows needlessly riling him is definitely  _ not _ the way to achieve that.

So he keeps talking - about himself and his business - giving Zayn a lot more information about his life that he ever planned to.

As expected, Zayn doesn’t return the favour.

  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys.  
> Thanks for your comments. I may not always respond, but I read and appreciate every one.  
> I think I’m going to say the updates are not going to be any more frequent than monthly – just so you know. I’ll complete this, it just won’t be quick   
> Reckless Serenade asked me (trying hard to keep the frustration out of her voice) how far into the story we are – midway, a third, a quarter, close to 75% complete? – all that. She asked some other stuff as well – like what the fuck’s going on :D but that’s something I am unable to answer lmao.  
> I can say that the story’s probably about 50%, possibly 60% complete (so possibly about 60-70k words in all?), but in the end it all depends.  
> You will definitely get a resolution (that I promise you), but I think we can expect a few things to happen before then (lmao @attemtp to be cryptic).
> 
> Just try to enjoy the ride ;)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whoever’s Zayn’s speaking to on the phone is doing a pretty good job pissing him off.

Liam wants to ask him (or at the very least make  a light-hearted comment after observing him peremptorily toss his phone onto the backseat) exactly who it is who’s pissed in his cornflakes, but well, he isn’t actually insane.

He, therefore, wisely lets Zayn stew in his own pissed off juices, trusting – hoping - that once they reach his flat he’ll have got over it.

He hopes in vain.

**

Zayn is polite – well, if you hadn’t learned to read him enough to know he’s simply being as ‘polite’ as he can possibly manage in his current state of pissed offness – but makes it clear – extremely so – that Liam’s no longer welcome in his home.

Charming.

Trouble is he can’t really be pissed off about this since 1) it’s Zayn’s home and 2) he has, in all fairness, already laid claim to a good chunk of Zayn’s Saturday, which, should, in his opinion, be a day spent decompressing, especially when one considers the hectic schedule that must surely come with Zayn’s status.

In fact there are probably a lot of people who’ll think he should be extremely grateful for everything he’s experienced that day.

What a pity he isn’t one of them.

He knows fuck well that Zayn had a good few hours left in him to devote to entertaining - or more likely having Liam entertain him – had it not been for the moron who’d pissed him off.

Three guesses as to the likely identity of said moron.

Zayn doesn’t even invite him into the flat, simply thanks him for his company, advising him not to let the (car) door hit him in the arse on the way back to his  _ own _ boring Saturday evening.

Zayn’s such a twat that not even Loki’s manipulative self has any luck penetrating that dickish shell.

Liam remains unfailingly polite, of course, not allowing Zayn’s mood to infect him, pleased when Loki takes his cue from him – respectful, but refusing to fawn.

Not that it’s not long past time for Loki to finally figure out that his manipulative ass isn’t always going to triumph.

Oh well.

Looks like even his dog is getting a lesson in reduced expectations courtesy of Zayn fucking Malik.

What a fucking prince.

**

Loki gets over his snit a lot quicker than he does, of course, aided no doubt by the belief that he’s so adorable it won’t be long before he finds yet another admirer around which to weave his dubious spell.

In fact he makes a point of slumping in the corner when they get back to the apartment, definitely watching his movements, listening to his rant, but making sure Liam sees him yawn a few times, perfect the gaze of extreme boredom.

Well Loki can just fuck the hell off – he doesn’t have a clue what it means to be so badly disrespected.

He’s a fucking dog with the attention span for grievances of a-a- bloody goldfish!

So, more than likely, the next time he sees Zayn fucking Malik he’ll be all over him as usual, no memory at all of Zayn’s disrespectful shit left anywhere in his memory banks.

Speaking of which (and he honestly has no bloody idea why he’s feeling any type of glee, here), Zayn has given no indication that there will  _ be _ a next time.

Since there is absolutely no way Liam’s going to rock up, uninvited, at his flat ever again, poor Loki will probably have to forever live with the fact that he’s been baldly rejected by an absolute prince of a guy.

Unless, of course, Liam phones him...

**

Liam had actually resisted the urge to go through Zayn’s phone when he discovered he’d left it in the car while he played with Loki in Lickey, and had only retrieved  _ Zayn’s _ number – just in case Zayn forgot to give it to him later.

He’d seen that he’d had a few missed calls from someone called ‘Jolly’, but hadn’t investigated any further, simply curious as to why Zayn hadn’t responded to the calls.

Now he’s studying the number, idly speculating when exactly he’d call him and just how Zayn would respond once he worked out who it was (followed swiftly by the knowledge – most likely - of  how Liam had managed to get his number).

Since Zayn’s the most unpredictable bastard on the face of the planet Liam can’t honestly say with any degree of certainty just how he’ll react, but either way he’s definitely going to contact him.

No idea how it is in Zayn’s world, but the way  _ he’d _ been brought up said you didn’t end things that way – abrupt and sour and unfair, bloody unfair.

Why the hell should  _ he _ be punished for Zayn’s ire – at someone else?

No, if Zayn really wanted to break things off he’d have to do it properly,  _ explicitly _ .

He doesn’t think Zayn actually wants to end their friendship, but is willing to take the chance, just so he’ll know.

He has never been good with uncertainty.

**

Saturday’s usually a decent day for him.

He knows he could allow work to creep into his weekend – he keeps his own hours, after all – but from the start has been very disciplined in keeping his weekends free and clear, only paying attention to work matters on Monday morning, when he has little choice.

His business is doing well, well enough for him to consider employing a few more people with the aim of freeing up more of his time, but so far he’s resisted.

He genuinely fears that having employees will actually make things just that little more burdensome – the polar opposite of what he desires.

Nicola assures him that he’s just being stupid and he knows she’s right, knows that he needs to take the plunge and will – soon.

It’s just that the thing with Bryan (and the thing with Zayn) has been really distracting him, adding needless stress to already stress-filled days, so that decision had seemed best placed on the to-do list.

Now, though, now that he’s finished with Bryan  - or hopes he is, or at least that he will eventually stop regurgitating their relationship/breakup – and Zayn’s being a pain in the arse, now might be a good opportunity to turn his attention to that task.

He’d had a strong work ethic drilled into him, which naturally enough seemed to lead to successful actions, which in turn led to financial success.

And it’s not because he wants to be rich or be in a position to boast about his business, it’s just that he seems to do the right things, at the right time, and success seems to follow naturally.

It’s different with his music.

Here is where he craves success – and where he definitely believes he simply isn’t lucky enough to get there.

He has no doubt about his ability – he got over that issue a while ago.

He has, after all, seen the level of talent displayed by many successful performers and understands that in the end it often isn’t always about  _ talent _ , so  _ his _ level of talent is most assuredly enough.

He just needs a break – and well, how precisely do you manufacture that?

He already knows there’s only so far he’ll go to make it and quietly, in moments of despair, suspects that this means he will never make it.

And while he’s doing his best to accept this, every Friday night when he performs at the pub, a sly and persistent part of him asks if he’s really satisfied that this will be the zenith of achievement, if he’s really sure he can’t drop his standards just enough to actually get what he wants.

And every Friday night he feels his resistance getting lower and lower.

Of course there’s a moody fucking bastard who could probably give him some advice, except that moody bastard is pretending to be some ordinary Joe who has  _ nothing _ whatsoever to do with the entertainment industry.

The irony, the fucking irony, absolutely kills him.

**

The thing about mothers is they can be either your best friend or your worst bloody enemy.

His mother, as he suspects is the case with the majority of mothers, plays both roles with equal facility.

She has his back – always has done, since his first day at nursery - yet has inadvertently embarrassed him more than anyone in his entire life, and proved instrumental in encouraging him to step into and  _ remain _ in a toxic relationship.

She still doesn’t know this, though – and he will never tell her.

The decision, ultimately, was his and his alone, and obviously if he’d only told her the real situation with Jackie then she wouldn’t have assumed he was happy, that she was being a great mum-in-law.

She is a great mum-in-law – that’s one of the things he resented the most – that he’d allowed her to waste all of that on Jackie.

To this day he’s kept from her the truth about what she did, where she went, how the relationship ended.

She’d even been upset at him for a time, believing (as he’d allowed her to) that he’d cheated on Jackie (with a bloke). (She’d put the gay thing to one side for the time being, wanting to deal, instead, with his decision to cheat on what she probably still believes is his soul mate).

One day he’ll sit her down and tell her the truth, but that’s going to be a hard day, and coward that he is, he’s waiting for a few more years to pass before he’s ready to put them both through that.

He knows she’s going to have a seriously hard time forgiving him.

She will find it impossible to forgive him for allowing her to sit back and see him hurt, to be a part of the means of seeing him hurt.

No, he’s not in any hurry to see that day.

But once he’d convinced her that the cheating wasn’t really cheating they’d moved on to the gay thing, which she’d handled even better than he’d anticipated.

His mum had a gay friend (who she rarely brought home, but spent a lot of time with – especially on the phone) and though she clearly loved him that didn’t mean Liam necessarily expected she’d be okay with her  _ son _ being gay.

She’d been fine with it, the only stumbling block her stated inability to deal with the animosity she saw her friend having to deal with on a near weekly basis.

As far as he could see that was the one thing she had trouble dealing with – the anticipated angst and hurt wrought from society’s generally homophobic attitude.

Her  _ feelings _ for him didn’t change in any way.

His dad had been slightly different, but Liam had expected that, had expected it to take his dad a little longer and for acceptance to arrive via a different route. So he hadn’t been hurt when his dad had a few hard words to say to him – at first – because they hadn’t been unkind, just a result of his own struggle to come to terms with something wholly new and unexpected.

His dad, in any case, was a lot more set in his ways than his mother, so it was to be expected that he wouldn’t be busting out the bunting or the rainbow flags initially.

But that had been a few years back.

Both parents accepted him for who he was.

No, he was the one who didn’t introduce his boyfriends to his family, didn’t feel comfortable being around his family when he was ...being gay.

Maybe it was because he’d yet to find someone he felt merited that next step.

The girlfriends, because girlfriends were so ‘normal’, so accepted hadn’t been that big a deal.

Boyfriends, on the other hand,  _ were _ a big deal – and no way was he going to bring anyone home who didn’t have the potential to possibly be ‘the one’.

And yes, his mum did wonder why and was no doubt a little hurt since she knew he was definitely having relationships, but she didn’t push too hard.

No, that privilege went to his bloody nosy sisters!

**

“We broke up.”

“Why? I thought he was fit.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shallow much?”

“Well, let’s face it, you’re not exactly god’s gift.”

“Charming, and you really need to stop or I’ll get a swelled head.”

The snort was rude. “Too bloody late. Aaron, put that down! I am warning you!”

“I don’t know why you don’t make David do more with them kids. Bet he’s down the pub with his mates while you-“

“Oh and you wouldn’t be the same?”

“Well, no. If I ever have kids – and yeah, that’s a big if - then you can be sure I’d pull my weight.”

“Well it’s different when it’s two blokes, isn’t it?”

Here we go. “How so?”

“Well duh, you’re two blokes, so obviously you can’t justify not doing as much as your partner-“

“So you’re saying, cos you’re the little woman it’s justified for you to do more than your fair share of raising his kids?”

“And that’s exactly why you blokes have no idea what sexism even means.”

“I’m not bloody sexist!”

“No, you’re not. Not saying that.” She was sounding ‘patient’, which he hated. “I’m saying you think it’s all black and white and obvious and blah blah. And I’m telling you, our Liam, try being a woman for a bit, in a bloody relationship, dealing with crap every day and then come tell me how unfair everything is and how I shouldn’t put up with this and put up with that. You can only say that from your position of never having to put up with any of that in the first place! But don’t bother.” Her sigh was exaggerated. “I don’t expect you to get it.”

“Well why bloody say it in the first place then?”

“You cheeky little bugger-“

“Not five years old, sis.”

Another rude snort. “You sure about that?”

And it goes downhill from there...

**

His family love Loki.

He’s sure they think he’s the  _ family _ pet rather than wholly Liam’s bought and paid for dog.

He  _ could _ leave Loki with any of them rather than pay for his kennelling, but he’s not a fool.

If he loves his dog and ever wants to retain ownership of said dog he’s to never give even the slightest indication that that might be an option.

They barely greet him when he drops in on Sunday, bearing down on Loki almost as if it’s been more than seven days since they saw him last.

A week.

Loki’s no-one’s grandchild or child - a week is not a long time for god’s sake.

Now he, on the other hand,  _ is _ someone’s child and someone’s brother and yet...

**

Here’s the thing; he wants to pick his mum’s brains with regard to Zayn’s comings and goings, specifically the Worcestershire house, but he has no real idea how to do that without maybe giving away things he has no bloody intention of giving away.

How’s he to tell her he’s been seeing Zayn for the past few weeks; that he’s spent quality time with him, even seen the house he’s possibly thinking of buying, without it being fucking weird? (Also how the heck is he to prevent his mother subsequently rocking up to Zayn’s flat, autograph books in hand?).  Yet he has the burning need to find out what she knows – that he might not know – about Zayn.

Okay, yeah, he’d been dismissive of her ‘knowledge’ in the past, but well, maybe there’s more to it than he’d allowed, so he might as well use this fount of information that’s just there ready, willing –  _ dying _ \- to spill.

The only trouble is it’s his mum and well, she’s who she is, so it’s very likely that any attempt to get away with merely grabbing the information he wants with nothing messy ensuing is hovering around a 2% likelihood.

Maybe if he’s very subtle.

Yeah, he’ll be really subtle, really clever, get the information with the minimum amount of mess.


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

The first thing is his mum’s been at the booze or “Merry, a bit merry, whoooo!” as she likes to call it.

He calls it being drunk off your face and liable to make a show of not only yourself but your kid, too (his sisters don’t count, the brass neck on them means they don’t even know the meaning of the word ‘shame’).

Now, some would say it’s okay to be made a show of when there’s only family there to witness it.

_ He _ would say ‘try being me for the next couple of hours, then’. It’s not like the worst moments in his long history of being made a show of haven’t been a strictly family affair.

Where do people get off thinking strangers are  _ worse _ ?

His family would depress the off button a lot bloody sooner in front of strangers; apparently there  _ is _ no off button when it’s just family around; apparently all is fair in love and war – when it’s your family got you pinned behind enemy lines, taking turns to fire cannons.

It starts with his appearance.

Okay, yeah, he’d cut his hair (nothing to do with impressing Zayn, not at all) and he’d maybe taken a bit  _ too _ much care styling it before he left.

How, though, does that justify the barrage of ‘helpful observations’ which starts the minute they catch sight of him?

“Hey Liam, the other members of the boyband are waiting to go on stage. Chop chop.”

“Oh sweetheart, did you mean to let it curl like that?”

“If I didn’t know you was gay already...”

“Thought you was off the market.”

“What? So I’m not allowed to have a  _ haircut _ now?”

“Haircut? It’s more like a- Mum, you’ve seen on Crufts when they do the grooming sessions and you get them poodles all poofy and ringletted, ending up looking like a dog’s dinner...”

And his mum has the nerve to turn and examine him minutely, a thoughtful expression on her face.  “Yeah,” she says, eyes roving over his head.

Rolling his eyes he heads for the bathroom, runs water in the sink, ducks his head, washes everything out of his hair, towel dries it, goes back into the lounge, triumphant in his bitter resentment.

“Oh sweetheart.”

“Oh God, you look like a drowned rat.”

“Liam, that’s a no from me. Sorry. You thought about Britain’s Got Talent instead? ”

And on and on.

He hadn’t even looked to his dad for support.

His dad had taken one look at his hair (when it was still styled) and retreated back behind his newspaper.

No help from there – as per usual.

He still has no idea how his dad’s survived his family so long. He’s pretty sure he has a lot to learn from him, just hasn’t quite got around to taking the steps, fearing, when all’s said and done, that he is actually far too confrontational to successfully employ any of his dad’s stratagems.

They poke, he reacts, pokes back.

Still, it’s true that no-one ever pokes at his dad, so yeah,  _ maybe _ – when he’s fifty and wants a quiet life.

Apparently he isn’t quite ready for that quiet life as yet.

After they’re done with his appearance:  “Any skinnier and them ‘skinny jeans’ are gonna start looking like clown trousers” they start on his love life.

He once made the mistake of thinking that since all is fair in love and war he could make fun of his sisters’ love lives with equal impunity.

Wrong.

The equation is thus: one boy versus two girls = no contest. One kid brother versus two older sisters = unending pain and misery for the kid brother.

He knows this, has had it seared into his very dna, still...

“At least I can  _ keep _ a boyfriend.”

Okay, that’s the equivalent of breaking cover and boldly walking toward the enemy, gun raised, but hey, his scalp’s still tingling and he’s shivering a bit as his hair takes its own sweet time drying.

They’d forced him to wash his hair, so now it’s time for payback.

Ruth stares at him open-mouthed, looks first at her sister, her mum (and this is how he knows he’s in trouble), then her dad.

Including dad in her outrage means she’s about to go off!

Loki, where the hell’s Loki when he needs him?

And like the precious, princely, pal he is Loki comes trotting over to Ruth, nudging at her knee, before placing his snout on her thigh, looking up at her with the big pleading ‘I love you’ expression.

Liam knows that out of all the family Ruth’s the one who loves Loki best. She’d been there when he chose him, had spent lots of time with him when he was a pup. No, she definitely feels she’s joint owner (he resentfully believes) so there’s just no way she’s going to ignore him – ever.

And so it is; her attention switches to Loki immediately, automatically, allowing Liam to relax, breathe a sigh of relief.

His mum’s drunk, so a bit out of it, Ruth’s occupied...

“If there’s anyone who can’t keep a boyfriend, our kid...” Nicola hasn’t even looked at Loki, her gimlet gaze fixed unwaveringly on her brother.

“Ah, but I don’t actually  _ tell _ you about my boyfriends.” He feels quite pleased with this, not only is it true – is it ever – but it also can’t be argued with.

She snorts. “Note the plural – unless it’s cos you’ve got multiple lads on the go at once, our Liam.” A sneaky glance toward their mother, here, as she raises her voice (to make certain it penetrates the alcoholic haze, obviously).

Liam also shoots a hurried glance in their mum’s direction, wanting to strangle his sister.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, mum. Nicola’s just being...silly.”

“You’re stepping out on your fella?”

He groans inwardly. “It’s okay, mum. Like I said, Nic’s just being an idiot.”

“I raised you better than that, son. Now, you know I don’t mind the gay thing, but that doesn’t give you the green light to be stepping out on your fella just cos he’s a fella. I know  _ fellas _ do that kind of thing. I mean look at our Nicola and Jordan. I said to her, I said ‘I know that’s what fellas do, our Nicola, but doesn’t mean you have to put up with it-“

“Mum!” Nicola looks mortified and Liam grins at her.

“No it’s okay, sweetheart. We all have troubles in our marriages. Mind, me and your dad never had that particular trouble. Did I ever tell you about the time we went for a dirty weekend-“

“Mum!”

“Karen, love...”

Even Loki has to bark a huff of protest at this.

“What?” She genuinely looks bewildered, but then she  _ is _ drunk.

“Dad, could you maybe take mum for a drive, clear her head a bit? Me and Ruthie will get the dinner on in the meantime.”

Well, Liam hasn’t lived with these women for twenty years without learning to read their cues.

They want to get their parents out the way so they can go to town on him.

Well, he isn’t an idiot; he runs his own business for god’s sake.

“Tell you what, dad, why don’t me and mum go for a drive. I know you’re waiting to watch the match.”

He’s sure his dad would have kissed him – if his dad did that sort of thing on a regular basis.

“Good idea, son. Karen?”

“I wouldn’t mind a little drive,” she admits, smiling up at Liam.

And that’s when he begins to wonder if he hasn’t made a gigantic mistake.

**

The thing with his mum is that she’s easily led.

She’s such a guileless person she’d never expect guile to be employed against her, and definitely not by her ‘little boy’.

Liam has watched his sisters employ guile against his mother for more years than he cares to recall, and of course, in time he’d begun to do the same, and to his shame only occasionally feels bad about it.

Well, it’s never for anything  _ bad _ and definitely never when it’ll hurt her, and besides, if you want to get your way you can’t always be honest, can you, certainly not completely straightforward all the time.

Plus, his mum’s drunk.

And that’s definitely not  _ his _ fault.

*

She loves his car, apparently.

News to him.

Last time he could have sworn she’d quietly wondered ‘why he was trying to kill himself by driving a car that did 100 miles a minute the second you blinked at it. And did it have to be black? Why did all his cars have to be black? How about that nice maroon they’d seen that time or if he really wanted to stand out green was always a good colour.

Why wasn’t green a more popular colour...?’

So, definitely still drunk then.

“I’ll drive within the speed limit, mum, promise.”

Cackling, she pokes him in the bicep. “Don’t be daft. Let it off the hook, son.” Cackles again, lost in some private party no-one else would even  _ want _ to be invited to.

“Yeah, mum,” he says under his breath, starting the engine.

The trouble, of course, with a drunken, guileless mother is that this creature has the capacity to hit on seriously uncomfortable truths her sober, guileless self wouldn’t even imagine.

So, he still has to read carefully.

They drive for a while in semi comfortable silence – she’s comfortable, clearly feeling no pain; he’s a little less so, waiting for the opportunity to implement his plan (which even he has to admit is no plan at all).

He needs her to start talking about Zayn  _ without _ pissing him off, without eventually forcing him to roll his eyes and wonder why the hell he’d thought his was such a good idea in the first place.

Oh and he needs to make her think it’s all her idea and he’s only entertaining her because she’s his mum and well, he loves her.

He really should have got one of the girls to handle this part of the plan, except...

No fucking way.

Obviously.

Jesus, if they  _ ever _ got wind of this thing with Zayn!

The thought is so terrifying he unconsciously presses down on the accelerator, which, turns out, is probably better than a splash of cold water in the face as a means of jolting his mum from her drunken state.

“Liam, son, slow down!”

Since she looks genuinely panicked Liam resists the urge to tell her that since, in a show of respect for her sensibilities, he’d been going 15 miles an hour he’s actually still well under the speed limit despite now increasing his speed by a factor of...2

“Sorry, mum.” Well, he needs to keep her onside. “Foot slipped.”

She’s examining him minutely. “You can’t handle this car, son. It’s too powerful for you.”

This time he  _ doesn’t _ resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Mum, it’s not. We’re fine. Now where do you wanna go? And please don’t say shopping. It won’t take the girls  _ that _ long to make dinner...”

“Cheeky.” Another poke in the bicep.

What is it with his mum and poking him in the bicep? Admittedly she’d only started doing it once he’d regularly started working out so should he be  _ flattered _ ...?

“You know where I’d really like to go?”

A brief sideways glance shows him shining eyes and a mischievous smile.

Shit, now what?

“No, tell me.”

She grins. “Well, we honestly couldn’t go today and it’s a bit of a sort of a wild goose chase. Not exactly that,” she adds hastily, clearly able to read his body language even before he’d even consciously made a face. “Do you remember me saying I thought Zayn wanted to buy a house in Worcestershire?”

Inside, he’s still, frozen in place, but on the outside merely affects a look of mild puzzlement. “Sort of.”

“Well, I sort of want to see if it’s the place I’m thinking of.” He can tell by the expression in her voice that she’s sure he’ll pour scorn on this idea and is ready to let it go if he protests even a little bit.

He honestly isn’t sure how he feels.

This is a shock, a real shock.

_ How _ ?

How had she somehow divined what’s on his mind?

And how the fuck did she even begin to be able to narrow down the property to the point she could say she’d see if her ‘guess’ is correct?

He glances at her, couldn’t help himself, trying somehow to see inside to where she stores whatever information she has that makes her Zayn’s most knowledgeable fan.

“Well, no, obviously we couldn’t do this weekend, but how about next Saturday? I haven’t got anything planned.”

“Son, you sure? I know it’s your only day off and I know you don’t want to spend it driving your old m-“

“It’s fine, mum.” He’s not about to lose his temper. He’s not. “I could do with a nice drive in the country.” He’s trying to smile, but can only manage  a lukewarm effort, but when he sees his mum’s corresponding smile the incipient bad mood blows apart like a bubble bursting.

“Eeee! It’s gonna be fun!”

“Well, not if you’re gonna drink, mum.”

“A nice little tipple never hurt anyone.”

“Well, it might hurt both of us if it means you can’t give directions, mum.” 

Her only response to this is a quiet little shrug.

It occurs to him that they all patronise her to a lesser or greater degree and  _ he _ really needs to stop doing it.

No hope getting his sisters to do the same, but  _ he _ needs to.

There really is no need to use guile or patronage against her at all.

He really, really needs to remember that.

“So, where we going today?” he asks briskly.

His mum smiles at him, eyes shining.

“Oh God,” he groans, hastily revising everything he’d just concluded.

**

She’d bought him some t-shirts (to justify putting him through it, probably), but when they get back, insists on him trying them on and parading in front of the others, which is where he personally draws the line.

“Mum, if I don’t like them, I’ll take them back. Okay? Cos you know, not 5 years old anymore.” He ignores the snort from his sister .

“But you look so good in short sleeves. Doesn’t he, Geoff? Them nice big muscles. He’s grew up  _ real _ nice.”

Oh for –

“Mum.”

“Ruthie will tell you – you’m a nice catch for any girl – or boy.”

This is getting unbearable.

What, just because he’d agreed to take her out next weekend? If he’d known this would be the result he’d have been a selfish prick and refused her.

“Thanks, mum, but I’m still not trying them on.”

“Okay, son.” She  _ strokes _ his bicep this time, which is actually worse than the poking. “I remember how shy you could be. Remember how shy he was, Geoff? We could hardly come into your bedroom without knocking and waiting ten minutes until you said come in. And you’d spend a whole morning in front of that bathroom mirror and woe betide anyone who tried to-“

“Tell you what, I’ll try on the one –  _ one _ , mum – and that’s it.”

“Oh that’s great, son. Try the red on, that’s my favourite. You always suited red, Liam. Didn’t he, Ruthie? Always suited anything red...”

**

Dinner is excruciating.

Actually, If he’d realised beforehand that Ruth and Nicola were going to be there without their families he’d have thought twice about coming over.

Why?

Because apparently when there’s only them there he becomes the centre of attention; the brunt of the jokes; the lamb to the slaughter; the tethered goat, the piggy in the middle.

And there’s simply nothing to be done about it.

His only ally is his dad and his dad is too busy eating and sneaking furtive glances at his iPad (whose fucking bright idea was it to give his dad an iPad again?) to come to his aid.

To his dad Liam being the sacrificial lamb is simply business as usual...

“Careful not to get any gravy on your lovely red t-shirt, our kid.” Nicola’s smiling pleasantly at him, if one considered Hannibal Lecter’s smile pleasant, of course.

“No, it’d be such a shame to get that lovely red tee dirty,” Ruth agrees, her smile equally ‘pleasant’.

“Told you it would suit him.” His mum’s smile was  _ actually _ pleasant, but he can see it’s going to be one of those meals where the sarcasm sails right over her head and she’ll inadvertently, but constantly hand over ammunition to his evil sisters.

Great.

Just fucking great.

“Is  _ red _ one of  _ Bryan’s _ favourite colours?” Nicola is a snake, no question.

“No idea,” he says airily, tucking into his golden potatoes.

Say what you like about his sisters, they cook a mean Sunday roast.

Hmm, maybe he should finish the meal before turning on them. A matter of etiquette not to roast your hosts when they’d roasted your beef so perfectly...

Pity they don’t give as much consideration to those eating their meal as he gives to them.

“Thought Bryan dumped him,” Ruth observes with studied casualness.

And, of course, like a fool he falls for it.

“Er, excuse me.  _ I _ dumped  _ him _ !” And it’s only as he sees the wink and accompanying evil grin from Nicola that he sees how they’ve trapped him.

“What’s this? Someone dumped you, son? When did this happen?”

Shit.

“Er, mum, it’s nothing. I just-“

“And you say his name’s Bryan? Where did you meet him?”

And down, down hill it all goes from there....


	16. Chapter 16

 

The thing about working for yourself is that there’s no switching off when you leave the office; no leaving all the headaches and logistics and prevention of possible cock-ups to the guy who pays your wages – not when you are that guy.

No, he’ll never go back to the bad old days of working for a boss, but fuck’s sake!

For once, just once, it’d be nice to just go in of a Monday morning  (a dreary fucking Monday morning, still nursing a hangover (not an actual one, except it certainly feels like it) from the effects of being harangued by the women in your family all day long) and not be faced with yet another wholly preventable fucking crisis.

What exactly did he pay Maggie for if not to manage his bloody office?

What was the job of an office manager if not to manage his sodding office?

No, it wasn’t his job to fix admin snafus or even soothe the ruffled feathers of stupid customers.

That is what he paid his office manager to do.

“And I told her it was just a mix up – on her part - though to be fair I did try to sugar coat it a bit-“

“Not all that successfully by the sounds of it.” He is trying, no,  _ really _ trying to keep his temper, it’s just a little harder today given that this will be the umpteenth time in a row she’s not handled things as smoothly as she should.

Of course that’s what happens when you allow your bloody sister to persuade you to give her mate a helping hand ‘cos that bloody Tony’s left her with four bloody kids and not even so much as a crumb...I swear to god I told her, I did. When they got married I said...’

He’d never had anything against Maggie – except her inability to stop having fucking babies! –  _ until _ she started working for him (though the use of the word ‘work’ in this case would be verging on the profane).

She appears to regard her office hours as an excuse to catch up on sleep; nail and face grooming, community and celebrity gossip, and not to overlook the all important co-ordination of the kiddies’ school and leisure routines.

No wonder she doesn’t have space to focus on  _ his _ itinerary.

“Well, she’s a mouthy cow.”

“Maybe, but she’s a good customer ( _ or used to be _ ) and we have to keep her on side. Get her on the phone and send the call through to my line.”

He heads determinedly to his office, certain that if he hesitates for even a second he’ll turn on her, savage her where she sits.

Just fucking perfect.

While he’s confident he can get Mrs. Stokes back on side, it’s a half hour that could - and should - by rights be spent a lot more productively.

No, there’s nothing else for it – he’ll have to find someone else.

**

If the office and admin side of his business is a headache the same certainly can’t be said for the practical side.

He  _ lives _ for his work (the actual hands on work rather than the business side of things).

He’s particularly good at what he does and loves nothing more than seeing his customers’ faces after he transforms their rooms.

That moment, that feeling just never, ever gets old.

The work  _ is _ hard and can be extremely technical and fiddly. Get it wrong by even a millimetre and it’s a nightmare, which is why he takes such pride in rarely- if ever - getting it wrong.

If he could do this – just this – and get paid for it he’d be singing all day long.

What a shame he also has to run the fucking  _ business _ .

He’s fully aware that he absolutely needs to find someone who’ll take all of that off his hands.  

The trouble is he simply can’t be bothered to make the effort to hunt down this mythical beast.

Not only would they have to be extremely efficient, they’d also need to be extremely trustworthy, likable (he refuses to spend hours and hours with people he doesn’t adore) and know him and his foibles as well as they know their own.

The obvious, the glaringly obvious answer is family, of course, except er no.

Or put another, more succinct way – hell to the fucking no!

His sisters and his mum do fit the criteria; he just knows it would be a mistake having them involved in his life to that degree.

Having them involved in his life to the degree they are now, taking over and interfering in  _ every _ aspect of his life?

No, he isn’t that dumb – or masochistic.

And yes, he knows he’ll need to find someone and he’ll need to do it yesterday!

It’s just, given his level of ennui, he really doesn’t see that happening any time soon.

It’s the anticipation of the  _ process _ of it, the tedium and mind bending  _ frustration _ of it that enervates him, so much so he generally elects not to even try.

But he can’t keep going through what he went through today otherwise, sooner rather than later, he’ll find himself with no customers and thus no business.

How the hell has he not turned to drink before now?

Actually, he looks forward to letting Ruth know she was instrumental in both ruining his business  _ and _ destroying his liver simply because she didn’t have the guts to tell her friend that first off she needed to stop having bloody kids; maybe create a you tube channel instead; to definitely stay out of the job market and definitely,  _ definitely _ not lead altruistic business men into bankruptcy because her incompetent ass couldn’t answer a simple telephone query without starting world war 3.

Yeah, that should be fun – the one positive note to take from impending bankruptcy and alcoholism –making his sister feel guilty.

**

It’s Wednesday before he gives in and calls Zayn.

It hasn’t been an easy process; he’d been pissed off, after all – really pissed off – which meant he’d decided he was basically never again going to even  _ think _ about Zayn let alone try to get in touch with him.

And that had lasted all of Sunday, Monday and well, no, by Tuesday morning he’d begun talking himself round.

He’d begun to see things from Zayn’s point of view (though he could hear the distant, haglike voices of his sisters intoning ‘make excuses for him, you mean’), realising that he’d been too hard on him; that Zayn hadn’t actually been rude, hadn’t actually implied he never wanted Liam to darken his doorstep again.

He’d just been tired, a little ticked off because of whatever fuckery the Dickhead had brought to his door.

And it wasn’t hard to see why, now, was it?

Zayn was probably waiting for Liam to get in touch, might even be worried he’d said or done something to offend him...

Thus he worked himself - talked himself - up into a lather of wanting to reassure Zayn; assure Zayn Liam wasn’t pissed off; that he understood why he’d acted the way he had and definitely wasn’t mad at him.

He’d also, of course, consulted Loki:

“He’s probably really worried about what I’ll say if he calls me, isn’t he? Mate, you think we should walk up there or phone first?”

Loki had stared first at his face, then the phone in his hand and given an encouraging woof.

“Phone first? Yeah, good idea...”

**

The first two times he calls the call goes straight to voicemail.

He doesn’t leave a message.

He tries for a third time, heart pounding (though he half expects it to go to voicemail again) and nearly has a heart attack when it’s picked up.

He draws in breath...

“Yeah, what do you want?”

It’s not Zayn.

Liam has only heard him speak a handful of times but he has a distinctive voice.

It’s the Dickhead, answering Zayn’s phone like he has a right to; answering Zayn’s phone and being incredibly rude.

Liam considers engaging him in some seriously aggro back and forth then decides against and hangs up without reply.

The fuck!

**

He spends the rest of the day agitated, so incensed he honestly doesn’t know what to think  _ or _ do.

He hasn’t the faintest idea why this guy pisses him off so intensely, but he does and that’s all there is to it.

He hates that he’s around Zayn, just on principle, and hates that Zayn can’t apparently see all that’s wrong with him, and though he knows it’s none of his business he isn’t prepared to - isn’t  _ capable _ of being sanguine about this.

The worst part is that he knows so little about this guy and what he is to Zayn.

Liam absolutely has no clue who he is to Zayn.

He answered Zayn’s phone – like he had the right.

And what the fuck does  _ that _ mean?

**

By Thursday evening he’s calm enough to consider calling again - and  _ handling _ it this time.

So he calls again, all his polite muscles flexed and ready to go into action.

Of course  _ Zayn _ picks up this time and of course he isn’t prepared for it to be Zayn on the other end of the line....

**

“How’s it going?” Zayn sounds like he gets calls from Liam all the time; like they hadn’t parted with a boatful of tension between them, that they’d actually arranged to see and speak to each other again, like he isn’t a superstar engaging with some random off the street...

“Honestly?” Oh. Is he  _ really _ going there?

“Yeah.” He sounds amused.

“Work’s giving me a fucking headache.” Apparently so, but in his defence, Zayn did ask.

“How come?”

“My office manager is  _ shit _ . She almost lost me business the other day and sooner or later she’s going to fucking bankrupt me!” It isn’t funny, really isn’t.

_ Zayn _ thinks it’s funny, probably because he doesn’t take the prospect of bankruptcy at all seriously, because, you know, billionaire and everything.

“Why not get rid then?”

Liam sighs. “Oh believe me I want to. It’s just a pain. Hiring and firing is a fucking pain.”

Zayn’s silent for a moment as though contemplating what it must be like to be a person who worries about such mundane things. “I know someone who could probably help,” he eventually offers in a mild tone, like whatever’s being said is no big deal.

Liam doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give himself time to consider whether or not this might burden Zayn or whether he should be trusting Zayn to know what a kitchen fitter might need in terms of office management. He says: “Mate, I would have your fucking kids if you could sort that out for me.”

Zayn’s laughter’s like the balm to all his ills – every single one of them. “Steady on, mate, not sure I signed on for that. I was just offering my  _ advice _ !”

“The having kids bit is an extra.” He’s grinning all over his face, relief flooding all the way through him.

He has no idea why he’s so certain Zayn’s going to solve his problems, he just is.

“Well, I’ll  _ consider _ it – if it ever comes to that.” He’s almost choking with laughter.

Liam realises with a measure of wonder that he has the capacity to make Zayn laugh, which is something  the ‘Zayn’ he’s ‘known’ all these years is not known for – at all.

Score one for him?

“Max 3, though.” He feels the need to make this crystal clear

“Two boys and a girl, yeah?” Zayn is being equally solemn.

“Definitely. I hear girls are even a pain to carry and give birth to!” His sisters, his mum will bloody kill him if they ever get wind of this bit of disloyal crap, but hey, call it revenge for the crap they just put him through.

Zayn laughs again. “I heard that too.”

They chuckle at each other in comfortable, conspiratorial satisfaction, because, yeah, Zayn has sisters too.

Yeah.

“Seriously, though, man, if you do know someone.”

“I do. When are you free to consult?”

“Tomorrow morning’s good – unless that’s too short notice.”

“Ten good?”

“Ten is perfect, actually. Don’t have any morning appointments Friday.” He’s so happy and excited he genuinely feels he actually  _ would _ consider having his kids. Well,  _ kid _ \- o _ ne _ kid. Hmm, actually maybe just attaching himself to one of them contraction type simulator things for a couple hours. Although maybe just wearing the pregnancy belly for a month would suffice. A week?

“Great. Sorted then.”  Zayn’s sounding like Zayn again – subject done, now on to something else.

Liam admires him for his ability to make his intentions and feelings so fucking crystal clear. No wonder he doesn’t spend time talking – he doesn’t bloody need to.

If he could just somehow find a way to model this trait...

“Was wondering if you’re gonna be free this Saturday coming.” Zayn poses this like he’s saying: ‘that flower is called a rose’.

“Don’t have anything planned, no,” Liam responds in like kind because he’s finding himself in the weird position of being both surprised and really not.

“Pick you up around 1-ish?”

“A.m or p.m?”

For some reason this sets Zayn off again.

No idea why, it’s a serious question.

**

It’s only on the way to work the following morning when he glances at his phone and sees it’s his mum calling that he remembers that actually he  _ does _ have something planned for Saturday.

Oh shit.

**

His mum isn’t that disappointed. She knows she was lucky to get him in the first place and when he agrees to postpone their trip until the following Saturday – for sure – she rings off, happy enough.

He is a terrible, terrible son, but oh well.

He will  _ definitely _ make it up to her.

**

He’s given Maggie the day off.

He really doesn’t know how to dissemble well enough to not make her question why the fuck he’s looking so shifty and er should she be worried, so decides to not tax those nonexistent acting skills more than they can comfortably bear.

Friday’s a fairly busy day, usually, and in a way that’ll be good – it’ll give this new administrator a chance to prove herself.

He has no doubt she’ll be good, just hopes Zayn hasn’t overlooked the fact that he can only afford to pay her the  _ standard _ wage, not the type of wage someone working for Zayn might expect to earn.

He’ll have to find a way to make  _ those _ negotiations as painless as possible.

He’s tempted to run through the books, try to get everything in order but recognises just how counterproductive that would be  – she’ll need to see what’s what so she can see what needs to be done.

Zayn hadn’t elaborated at all once he’d set the appointment and Liam had been too busy enjoying his company to press him. He hadn’t even asked him why the Dickhead had answered his phone and been so fucking rude about it.

On the other hand Zayn hadn’t asked him how the fuck he’d got his number and why the fuck he thought he could randomly phone him any time he felt like it.

So there’s that.

All he knows is he’s both excited and nervous as hell about meeting this consultant, (and really has to spend maybe a little less time anticipating the upcoming meeting with Zayn).

Zayn is  _ such _ a difficult bastard.

How the fuck are you ever expected to stay cross with him?

It just isn’t fair, because the truth is Liam honestly doesn’t even know where he stands with Zayn half the time, and usually that would present one hell of a problem.

Won’t  pretend he’s the world’s most adventurous or spontaneous person, and the fact that he doesn’t even begin to feel grounded when it comes to his interactions with Zayn should be a major source of discomfort.

Yet he simply can’t imagine ever eschewing the opportunity to be around him whenever or however it presents itself.

And it’s this that probably goes some way to illustrating why Zayn’s the superstar he is.

Ordinary people don’t get to be superstars.

It’s possible they may once have  _ considered _ themselves ordinary but they were, probably in all cases, wrong, just plain wrong.

Zayn isn’t ordinary.

Liam suspects he  _ thinks _ he is, which is actually really bloody amusing.

The phone rings, distracting him from his thoughts.

It’s Bernie, one of the older craftsmen on his team.

Bernie has a tendency to be slow and steady, doesn’t much like dealing with customers, has to be handled with kid gloves.

Liam’s in the process of handling him when he sees the console light flash, indicating someone’s at the main door.

Glancing at his watch he sees it’s bang on 10.

Fuck.

“Bernie, I’ve got someone come in the office. You gonna be alright finding it? Yeah? Great. See you there.” He hangs up, quickly gets to his feet and hurries to the outer office just as his visitor steps inside.

Liam freezes.

It’s the Dickhead, dressed in a plain but expensive (and flattering) grey suit, carrying a laptop and a briefcase.

He looks Liam over with his usual disdainful stare.

“Jovan Harris,” he says, not offering his hand.

“Come in,” Liam says, not offering his.

**

Liam expects the entire ordeal to be absolutely excruciating.

It isn’t.

**

“So she’s messed it up completely?”

“It’s a mess, but salvageable.”

Jovan doesn’t tend to say much, but he definitely seems to know what he’s doing.

He’s overhauled Liam’s system from top to bottom in no time flat, fingers flying over the keyboard, the only communication the clicking of teeth and shaking of head.

He occasionally glances up at Liam as if to say ‘the fuck did you let it get this bad?’ but that’s about the extent of it.

Liam’s made (his most expensive pots of) coffee and tried not to hover, but has pretty much felt like a useless spare part much of the time.

“I need someone in the office, though – answering calls, doing the paperwork,” he ventures, a little tentatively.

“And you think that’s gonna be me?” He says this in a distracted, disinterested way, peering hard at a spreadsheet.

“Well, no.” Hmm, that isn’t what Zayn had in mind, surely.

“Because I  _ consult _ , I don’t work the phones.” A glance up to let him know insult has potentially been dealt and certainly felt.

“Of course not, I know you don’t.”

“I could train someone up for you.”

Liam knows that despite the casualness of the statement this is a very big deal.

He instinctively knows anyone trained by this guy would be an asset.

“I’d be grateful.”

Jovan glances at him again. “Anyone in mind?”

“Honestly? I’m crap at evaluating potential employees. I always get it wrong.”

“Right. I’ll take care of that then.” Still really casual.

Jovan’s maybe slightly younger than him and Zayn, though it’s not always possible to tell, but the way he’s gone about his task speaks of long years of experience. He definitely knows what he’s doing.

And Liam believes he’s starting to get more of an inkling of Jovan’s position in Zayn’s entourage.

He even considers confirming it with a question.

Decides against.

“So, should I give my current manager notice?” he asks instead.

“As per the terms of their contract, obviously.”

“And how soon can I expect to have a new manager installed?”

“How soon do you need them?”

“Monday.”

Jovan looks up at him. “Pay your current manager severance – make it a nice lump sum so it’s more attractive to leave than stay - and I’ll work the phones until your new manager’s trained up.”

Liam’s stunned. “I can’t pay-“

“Don’t worry about it. Just get the severance pay sorted before we start.” He returns his attention to the computer screen and Liam knows he’s been dismissed.

Back in his office he sits for a moment wondering what the heck just happened then fires up Google and researches ‘how to fire an employee and make it look like the best idea they’ve ever had’.

**

“Thank you for your time. I appreciate it.” 

If anyone had asked him even 3 hours ago if he’d be able to say that to this guy and actually mean it he’d have called them seriously deluded.

Jovan takes the preferred hand. 

_ His _ hand is cool and slender. “Something different.” He gives a nonchalant shrug. “Was pretty interesting. See, you’ve a lot of potential, but you’re not exploiting it properly. I’ll get things popping for you, no worries.” He smiles – first time that day. “But you better be prepared to employ more contractors by the time I’m done.”

Liam groans. “More work?”

Jovan rolls his eyes. “See, that’s where you’re going wrong. Now, the point of expanding the business is not for  _ you _ to work harder. No, the point is for  _ you _ to make more money, right? So what you do is bring in more business which makes more money, but the idea is for you to do all that without working any harder than you’re prepared to. That’s what outsourcing is designed to do. Utilise your contractors in the right way and they’ll make you a lot of money.  You’re giving them work, they should expect to pay you for the privilege.” He clicks his teeth the way Liam’s got used to hearing over the past couple of hours. “You need to change the way you think, man.”

Liam shrugs, because that is certainly the truth.  “Truth is I love what I do, I just don’t really like the business side of things as much. I’m doing okay or at least I thought I was, but the stuff you’ve pointed out makes me wonder.”

“No, you’re doing okay, just not as well as you  _ could _ be doing, but on Monday I’ll show you a few things I’ll be getting the new manager implementing - mostly sales and pr. Okay?” He’s smiling again and Liam notices again just how attractive he is. This time, however, the observation is shrouded in neither dislike nor jealousy.

“Take care, man.” He seems to actually mean that and is  _ still _ smiling.

“Thanks, man. See you Monday.”

Liam watches him out; not at all surprised at the flashy car he’s driving.

He honestly cannot believe that first of all Zayn sent him the Dickhead and then that the Dickhead isn’t a dickhead at all.

He sits in his office for a good 10 minutes wondering what it says about him that he was so sure the guy was a dick and turns out he isn’t.

Had he only been a dick because Liam was a dick first?

Couldn’t deny he’d disliked the guy on sight.

Now he’s re-evaluating their previous interactions and seriously wondering....

**

Zayn calls him later that evening, just as he’s about to leave for his session at the pub.

“Everything go okay today?”

Like Jovan hasn’t already filled him in. “It went well. Thanks for that. It really helped.”

“Good. Thought it might.” He waits.

Liam rolls his eyes, wondering how Zayn keeps getting away with this. “He’s agreed to help me out until we train up another manager.”

“Really? Cool.”

Points for Zayn’s acting once again. He really should consider making it a career.

“It was great, actually – showed me where I was leaking money, where the systems weren’t being efficiently utilised to make the business pop. Really good.”

“Cool, cool. So, it’s sorted then?”

“You know what? Yeah I think it is. Put it this way; I haven’t been this excited to tackle business stuff since I started.”

Zayn chuckles. “Glad I could help.”

“And I appreciate it, man, I really do.”

“But?”

Oh. Is he  _ that _ transparent? “Well, I think his fee might be a bit rich for my blood to be honest.”

There is a short silence on the line and Liam’s sure he’s somehow managed to offend him.

He wants to jump in, say something, something probably very stupid, but Zayn saves him the trouble.

“It’s a favour, mate. You’re not paying for his time and the manager will be paid the wage you agree with them. Don’t worry about it.” He sounds quietly amused. “You still free tomorrow?” And  _ again _ with the drawing a line under a subject thing.

“I am.”

“Great. See you then.” He hangs up.

Liam looks at the phone for a moment, unsure whether or not to be offended.

It’s been one hell of a week, that’s for fucking sure.

God alone knows what tomorrow will bring.

More surprises, though – of that he is absolutely bloody cert ain.

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

Liam has, for reasons of his own, always assumed Zayn’s the type who’d have a very loose relationship with the concept of being on time for appointments so gives him an extra 45 minutes that Saturday.

Loki’s with Ruth – being shamelessly spoiled by Ruth - and he’s been at a loose end all morning (already showering twice, changing outfit 3 times, driving into town for a morning paper he will never read).

For some reason he’s been incredibly, absurdly nervous since waking from a really intense dream (that made no sense whatsoever once he came back to the real world).

What, he mocks himself, is this a _date_? It’s not a fucking date, you dolt. Calm the fuck down!

He has absolutely no clue why he’s feeling this way.

Why the heck is he feeling this way?

Zayn has habitually (well, maybe twice now) invited him somewhere and has yet to give any indication that there are any date like aspects to a single one of said invitations.

Liam’s fairly sure (when he’s not being hysterical) that if Zayn was inviting a person out on a date that person would bloody know about it.

So, clearly he’s the one who wants it to be what it clearly is not.

Oh Zayn likes him, definitely enjoys his company – not about to indulge in any degree of false modesty here.

But when he stops to think about it soberly the likelihood of Zayn meeting new people he can comfortably hang with must be approaching negative figures, so it stands to reason he’s likely to be somewhat eager to be around the (new) person he gets on with, the person who appears to not be hung up on his celebrity status.

He recalls, now, the way Zayn acted the first time they met, the way he scrutinised Liam as though weighing him up. Of course he hadn’t exactly perceived it that way at the time, both too star struck and too mortified to see it as anything other than Zayn regarding him as yet another pesky fan, but on closer examination has he ever, at any point, given the impression he’s a fan?

(The closest he came was singing along to Zayn’s tracks and well, that wasn’t definitive – loads of non fans would have known the lyrics too).

And then there’s this ever present sense of constantly being _tested_.

Is that what that was – waiting to see how long it would take for him to reveal his true, rabid fan colours?

Hmm, that’s actually pretty interesting.

And could there be something in the way Zayn’s down here, miles from where Liam believes he _really_ lives, that lends everything an aspect of unreality (and ‘safety’) as far as Zayn’s concerned? Maybe even a sort of what happens in the Midlands stays in the Midlands type of thing?

He knows so little about the way Zayn operates in his private life, honestly has no clue outside of what he gleans from the mags and online sites and lately he’s started to suspect that even they aren’t necessarily telling the truth much of the time.

He’s even begun to wonder if even _they_ know who Zayn is, where he lives, who’s part of his inner circle.

His mum has sort of hinted at this a time or two, which he, of course, in his arrogance, completely dismissed.

He knows his mum is definitely gullible, definitely believes what she sees and what she’s told, so for her to hint that she somehow knows more about how the media truly operates borders on the unacceptable.

It’s only now that he’s begun to question this; ask himself if the reason he didn’t want to believe her version of events is because it would almost certainly invalidate his notion of who he thinks Zayn is – based, of course, on the sensationalized magazine stories and the vaguely worded interviews he set such store in.

One, it would make him feel like an idiot and two; it would make him have to then ask himself just who he’d been infatuated with all these years?

He’s pensively sipping a glass of orange juice when his phone rings.

It’s a number he doesn’t recognise and, puzzled, a little apprehensive he takes the call. “Hello.”

“I’m walking up to your building. About 30 seconds away, bro. You ready to drive?”

He glances at his watch.

It’s 3 minutes to 1.

Heart pounding he gathers his keys, wallet and jacket and heads to the door, only realising when Zayn says “Bro?”  that he hasn’t responded.

Well, forgive him for not having the capacity to switch tracks just like that, after all who the fuck _is_ Zayn Malik, really? _He_ certainly doesn’t fucking know.

And okay he needs to calm the hell down or run the risk of being forever known as the man responsible for the crash that takes the life of Superstar Zayn Malik and, for that, his mum would never forgive him.

**

 

Zayn really has walked all the way to his flat by himself.

He has his hair hidden under a cap and he’s wearing black dress trousers, a black bomber and some fancy designer wear on his feet. He smells and looks expensive, classy.

Liam had been quietly praying for him to look a mess just so he could have a chance of looking (if not feeling) a little less star struck.

Trust Zayn to fuck things up by managing to look a hundred times _more_ attractive than usual.

But really has it only been a week since they last saw each other?

It feels like it’s been at least a month.

How else to explain that gut punch he gets seeing him leaning casually against the wall when he finally gets outside.

“Bro,” Zayn says with a welcoming smile.

“Mate, if I’d known it was a dress up event...” He admires himself greatly for the steadiness of his voice. Who knew he was capable?

Zayn laughs. “Just cos I’m not wearing jeans? Trust me, bro, it’s not an ‘event’ and er no ‘dressing up’ is required.” He gives Liam’s dress trousers and designer shirt a pointed stare.

Okay, yes he did take care with his appearance, but he always does, nothing special about his efforts this time round.

Reddening, he decides to casually stride to his car, but it’s parked at the back of the building and the journey is not a particularly short one, certainly long enough for Zayn to fall into step beside him.

He smells _so_ good, godammit.

“Hope you’re good at giving instructions,” he blurts out, immediately wishing he could call the words back when he gets how they sound on the air and he’d meant to say ‘directions’, really he had.

Zayn is obviously aware of how they sound on the air because he, quick as a flash, replies: “As long as you’re good at following them” and gives Liam a look that yes, makes him want to swallow his tongue whole.

Well, since this naturally makes replying impossible Liam just keeps on walking.

His heart is thundering, however, blood flooding his entire body accompanied by a deafening roar as he tells himself for the hundredth time to think twice and then thrice before saying anything, anything at all, because look what he’s just gone and done to himself.

He knows fuck well Zayn’s over there casually enjoying his effect on him, probably contemplating what to hit him with next and here he is, all at sea , wondering what the heck’s he’s got himself into.

He really is a flipping dunce.

In awkward silence he reaches the car, opens the door for Zayn, waits for him to get in the passenger side before walking round to the driver’s side and getting in himself.

He’s so riled up, stewing in his own self created juices it never even occurs to him to be concerned about Zayn’s assessment of his motor.

“Nice,” Zayn says, nodding as he gives the interior a slow, appreciative once over.

Oh, Liam thinks, genuinely surprised – and pleased.

“Yeah, me mate, Matt, persuaded me to stump up for it.” He straps himself in, hopes he won’t have to tell Zayn he needs to do the same too – sooner rather than later – happy for the excuse to talk about mundane – relatively mundane – things for the next little while.

He sees the ‘me mate, Matt’ part of the statement land, make an impact on Zayn, also sees him file it away for later examination.

The reason he knows all this is because Zayn makes it abundantly clear.

Apparently he is starting to get a handle on reading Zayn – except well, it’s not _really_ a handle, because it’s all about what Zayn _wants_ you to see – that much Liam gets.

Zayn _wants_ him to know that he has every intention of asking him about this mate of his at some point – and Liam figures it’s a way for Zayn to cut through the dross, make his life easier. If he lets you know to do your homework for when he’s ready to examine you the examination will go a lot smoother – for him.

Liam wonders if he was always like this or if it’s one of the ways being famous has impacted him.

He doesn’t really mind – knowing how Zayn operates makes his life easier too.

And it’s not like he’s being played exactly since this doesn’t seem personal or specific to him, simply the way Zayn does things – presumably with anyone and everyone outside his inner circle.

So, he tells himself, get some stories about Matt ready.

Also be sure to let Zayn know there’s no way they’ll ever, ever meet in this or any other lifetime.

 

**

 

Well Zayn’s pretty good at giving instructions, but then giving instructions is just a little different from giving directions.

Who knew?

 

 

 

**

 

“Mate, seriously?”

It is a very good thing he has a mother – and sisters. Having both mother and sisters has allowed him to develop the patience of a saint and the intelligence to understand that there’s no way you can shout for a protracted length of time without doing serious damage to your vocal chords, not to mention your long term mental health, which is why he has developed certain mechanisms that allow him to get through journeys with them.

They ask him to drive them places, places he doesn’t know and they _should_ know.

They seem to believe that being a driver means you somehow acquire an inbuilt GPS, an innate knowledge of every town, city and district in the British Isles and not only that an innate sense of how the fuck to get there via the shortest possible route.

There have been times when he has railed at all three of them about getting their licences sorted, but that’s always swiftly followed by a prayer to the unified collective of both drivers and pedestrians craving forgiveness because, no, no way they should ever be allowed behind the wheel of any type of vehicle.

They all three of them know _how_ to drive they just seem unable to put what they’ve learned into – safe – practice.

Nicola passed her test – he assumes her instructor must have been an old school friend or friend of a friend of a friend – but subsequently had a judge demand she never be allowed to sit behind the wheel of a moving vehicle ever again.

Ruth never made it; his mum made it, but drove so seldom she might as well have been a novice – a deadly one.

As he sits in the umpteenth layby in sunny Worcestershire, Liam wonders if Zayn can actually drive.

It would make sense that he can’t. He’s always had people driving him around and maybe feels safer and more comfortable that way. Coupled with the fact that he probably doesn’t go many places without bodyguards in tow... yeah, Liam figures he doesn’t really ever drive.

He certainly doesn’t fucking know how to give directions.

“What? It’s what it says here.” He’s peering at the screen of his phone. “Applegate Lane.”

“Does this look like Applegate Lane?” It’s a rhetorical question because of course this fucking ditch doesn’t look like any sort of fucking lane. Does this joker have any clue where the fuck he’s going? “Look, how about we go back to the main road...”

“No, honestly it looks familiar. I think we’re pretty much there.” Still staring at the phone like it’s going to somehow develop the capacity to render his wrongs right.

No, he is shit at giving directions and by the looks of things shit at following them too.

“No, look, you’re supposed to turn...” He is barely holding in the desire to snatch the phone from Zayn then shout at him long and loud.  How the fuck did he get to here from the instructions Liam’s looking at writ large for all to see on his fucking phone? Just how?

“What?” Zayn’s still staring gormlessly at the screen.

“I think you misread it a bit,” he says mildly, putting the car in gear. “Don’t worry, I think I see where to go...”

And thank god for mothers and sisters who don’t know their arse from their elbow.

 

 

**

 

So, a week later and Zayn appears to have bought a house. Well, if the definition of a house is a 6 bed mansion, complete with gym, swimming pool, stables.

It’s not generally _his_ definition of a _house_ , but then he doesn’t inhabit the world Zayn inhabits.

Be that as it may Zayn’s bought a house.

It’s just not the house they were looking at last week.

Not even in the same part of the County.

See, the thing is Zayn gave no overt indication that the property they looked at before was unsuitable, gave no indication that he intended to go and buy another one mere days later.

Liam doesn’t quite know what that means, just knows it means _something_ , something he is pretty sure he doesn’t really like.

It certainly forcibly reminds him of his place in this thing – just in case he had started to forget who he was in relation to Zayn and Zayn in relation to him.

This, despite all the ease and camaraderie, _reminds_ him.

But he swallows that all down for later examination and stewing, because right here and right now Zayn is allowing him to tour the house he’s just bought and he doesn’t’ know how he could possibly be ticked off about anything in light of this astonishing fact.

 

**

 

Zayn has decided ideas about what he wants in his new home; what he expects it to look like and all he seems to expect from Liam are nods and whistles of admiration.

He gets all he expects – and more.

 

**

 

“So...” He doesn’t really know what else to say and doesn’t have a clue what Zayn might expect him to say outside of all he’s already said or at least intimated.

It’s an incredible living space and Zayn’s made a good investment.

What else can he say?

Zayn seems to agree if the slightly self satisfied expression he’s currently wearing is any indication.

Liam spitefully muses that it’s a good thing he has a short memory and is generous enough to allow that the capacity to stump up a couple million on a mansion is enough to dull the memory of someone’s utter inability to read a map.

Might not be a millionaire but at least he can follow a fucking map and not get lost in countryside for hours on end...

“It’s alright, isn’t it?” Zayn’s smiling now, apparently not yet tired of hearing how good a purchase he’s made.

Liam shouldn’t be surprised, he already knows how competitive Zayn is, that he definitely has a healthy ego; that he’s a fucking celebrity so of course he likes being stroked – to infinity.

It’s just Liam’s only got so much stroking in him and he sincerely believes he’s done all the stroking he’s capable of for pretty much the remainder of the year.

Stroking Zayn’s ego appears to have used up all the excess strokes he held in reserve for the rest of the year, which will, of course, make the Christmas present thing a real pain if he no longer has the capacity to lie about how good his mum is at knowing exactly what he wanted that Christmas.

Oh joy.

“When you moving in?” he asks a little abruptly, silently telling his temper to take a fucking hike.

Zayn looks at him, then looks straight ahead.

He turns on the music console without replying.

Oh, like that - another less than subtle reminder that Zayn’s who he is and Liam is who _he_ is and that a person needs to remember their fucking place.

Thing is, if a person would lay out all the ground rules, all the parameters, the boundaries, all the fucking things a person needs to know to get their bearings, a person would actually not mind that much. A person only minds not fucking knowing beforehand, knowing only _after_ the fact.

He gives an internal, mildly exasperated sigh, deciding right then and there that from now on he’s going to handle things differently when it comes to this weird ass relationship he has with Zayn.

He’s been way too passive and accommodating thus far and of course the reasons why are clear; but he can’t continue that way.

The way he sees it is that it ultimately comes down to a choice he and only he can and has to make.

It may well result in a loss of friendship, and he hasn’t yet decided that his comfort and autonomy is worth that – but it’s a choice he will have to and will definitely make.

So he glances over at Zayn’s studiedly casually relaxed profile and makes a decision.

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

  
  


That’s the thing about making a decision – you immediately feel better for it.

Liam can’t think of a decision made in this frame of mind that hasn’t had immediate positive effect.

No reason  _ this _ time should be any different.

Making the Decision takes a weight from him; a weight he yeah, okay, had been aware of, but really hadn’t wanted to spend too long thinking about.

Not that this should come as any kind of startling revelation; that’s how it’s been with him since the day he came across Zayn in Shawcross park – he really hasn’t ever wanted to  _ think _ .

But that’s the past; all of it done and dusted, and he genuinely can’t quite get his head around just amazing it feels to acknowledge that.

He glances over at Zayn and is happy (and self-deprecatingly amused) to attest to the fact that Decision or not, he still finds him absolutely compellingly attractive, it’s just that this is no longer enough to make him continue acting like a crazy fool.

It is  _ such _ a relief he could honestly sing for joy.

Zayn’s staring straight ahead of him, deep in his own thoughts, but Liam no longer feels offended by that, offended by the fact of Zayn’s unwillingness to invite him inside his mind, inside his life the way Liam now recognises he absolutely wanted – and expected - him to.

The relationship he and Zayn have is, and always has been, without definition, and that, of course, has been the problem – for Liam at least (he assumes Zayn is very sure of Liam’s place in  _ his _ world and thus has been neither concerned nor unduly perturbed by the uncertainty of their relationship).

He sees now how arrogant he’s been to expect Zayn to want to define their relationship, to even be in any way anxious about how Liam feels about him.

He has been so bloody idiotic about this, but the thing he’d never have expected was the way recognising this, admitting this somehow makes him feel a lot  _ better _ about the idiocy.

And it’s not like Zayn’s ever presented himself as ‘Zayn’ superstar, yet that’s how Liam’s interacted with him, never  _ once _ able to forget who he is.

Oh he’d congratulated himself on never acting like a fan or making any reference at any time to Zayn’s status, yet had he ever, in his own head, let go of that knowledge? Hadn’t he been using that as the underlying, ever present tune playing in the background of his every thought of Zayn, their every interaction?

So, not to sugarcoat a damn thing, he’d pretty much effectively fucked  _ himself _ yet had been blaming  _ Zayn _ for that.

And yes, prior to the decision, this admission would have had him cringing in self-recrimination, but that’s done with.

The question he’s currently mulling over is whether being content to simply be Zayn’s friend – no strings – might be enough to get things really flowing between them

As far as he’s concerned the Liam prior to the decision is thing of the past and from now on the newly minted Liam will do things differently.

And with that in mind, he reaches over, changes the track.

When the wholly familiar opening melody drops in and Zayn stares hard at him, the glint of suspicion in his eye, Liam returns the suspicion with a chuckle that feels, in this newly minted state, like a shot direct to the bloodstream.

**

Zayn invites him in, Liam demurs.

He allows himself a congratulatory fist pump as he drives away from Zayn, aware that he’d surprised if not actively offended him.

Well, he’s sure he hasn’t offended Zayn, but since Zayn knows Liam’s attracted to him, jumps at any opportunity to spend time in his company the refusal would have come as quite a shock to the system.

Had he offered a convincing reason for his refusal Zayn would probably have accepted it, felt better about it – but he hadn’t, had simply said no.

And that still feels really fucking good – knowing he can say no, mean it and feel not one iota of guilt or regret about saying it.

He just feels fucking free – for the first time in weeks, he’s feeling like  _ himself _ again – and he knows no amount of money can buy that feeling.

**

“Mate, I told him,  _ I _ said: ‘if it’s all the same to you, mate, I got things to do, people to see, so actually no, I haven’t got time to spend worshipping at your feet.’ And do you know what he said? Not a fucking thing.” He stares at Loki in what a better actor would have successfully sold as incredulous disbelief.

Loki, lounging in his favourite corner courteously raises a semi interested brow.

“Exactly. And do you know what, I feel  _ so _ much better for that now. It’s funny how things can go from one thing to the complete opposite thing in a split second, isn’t it?”

Loki does his best to maintain his pose of semi interest.

“It’s funny because yes, he’s still sexy as hell – still Zayn, after all – but now I don’t feel the need to think about him every second of every day and if I went a week, hell a  _ month, _ without seeing or hearing from him, do you now what, I honestly don’t think it’d bother me that much.”

Loki tries and fails to hide his scepticism.

“No, I genuinely believe I’d be fine not seeing him for a while and when I do, feeling a lot different about it than before. I know you think he’s the dog’s bollocks and all that, but from a  _ human’s _ perspective he’s actually a bit of a dick. Hold on, mate, don’t get me wrong; I think he’s a dick because of my expectations of him. What do I mean? I mean I wanted him to I dunno,  _ like _ me like me, even though – and don’t judge – he’s straight. Look, mate, humans don’t have the  _ luxury _ of always being logical. I like him, so I want him to like me too. You know what, mate, you guys have it  _ so _ much easier.” He sighs. “It’s like: you wanna have sex, you have sex with a bitch in heat, right? You don’t waste time and energy wondering if she’s gay, if she prefers  _ other _ bitches – if she’s in heat, and it’s possible, you just do your business and then you’re done. With us humans it ain’t quite so straightforward. Loki, you know I’m gay right? Oh what, you thought I just got into bed with other blokes cos it’s a nice way of keeping warm? No, I like blokes  _ that _ way and the thing is – and here’s where it gets complicated – just cos I like blokes  _ that _ way that don’t mean they – the blokes I like that way - like blokes  _ that _ way too.” He sighs even louder. “I bloody well wish it was as simple as only ever being attracted to gay guys, never straight guys. I wish it was like that; would eliminate a load of problems.”

He falls into introspection at this point, granting Loki the opportunity to close his eyes and earnestly, if not desperately, pray for the sweet goddess of sleep to extend her generous arms and take him far, far away...

**

The Decision apparently has the unexpected side benefit of compelling him to clean his flat from top to bottom – and feel good about it.

His apartment is always spotless but today he goes above and beyond; cleaning out cupboards, sorting clothes and shoes for donation, getting rid of old documents he no longer needs, reorganising the layout of bedroom and living room.

He’s exhausted and immensely satisfied at the end of it, but the truth is it’s the best Saturday he’s had for quite some time.

**

Zayn phones him the following day.

He’s all business.

“Jovan says he expects you at your office at 6:30 and to cancel all your appointments for the day.”

“Oh. Oh, okay. Bit early, innit?”

He can feel Zayn’s shrug on the other end of the line. “He likes to get on with things.”

Liam hasn’t dropped the tendency to try to read Zayn’s mood, it’s just not so fraught with urgency - or agenda - anymore.

From what he can read Zayn’s busy and isn’t in a chatty mood.

No problem.

“Tell him I’ll be there and that I can take anything he throws at me.” As he hears the echo of his own words he wonders if that might have been an error in judgement.

Zayn’s brief silence assures him he’s right, yet all he says is: “Will do. Good luck, mate,” and hangs up.

Liam, expecting this, is still a little amazed at how okay he feels when he knows that even a day ago he’d have been all twisted up inside, feeling horribly offended, definitely slighted, thrown completely off kilter by the perception of what Zayn’s words and actions must say about him, say about how Zayn feels about him.

Now he’s cut through the haze of his own bullshit he can see Zayn’s simply abrupt in manner, and, like Jovan, a person who ‘likes to get on with it’; that his actions and his manner can’t be so easily sorted into the neat little categories Liam’s come up with in a bid to order his life.

And oh what a difference a Decision makes.

**

He has been on the phone with his mum for a hundred years.

She starts out innocently and nicely enough with talk of their cousins who’ve moved to Australia and have invited them all to come visit next summer.  That’s actually great news – they’re his favourite relatives and spending 6 weeks in Australia sounds absolutely amazing.

Clever; soften him up, put him in a nice relaxed comfy place before hitting him  _ well _ below the belt.

It’s funny but he’s always thought of his mum as gullible and disingenuous, easily led, not especially sophisticated or smart.

He has to put that misconception down to the innate arrogance of a child, because she’s actually one of the smartest people he knows, the most able at the sophisticated mind fucking skill of trapping him, catching his paw in a sprung trap he had no knowledge was actually a trap.

Looking back he doesn’t even know how she does it, but she does it – gets him talking about his love life.

It starts with her talking about one of her friend’s marriage and though he’s bored he knows all he need do is turn on the canned responses – not always even required – and pretty much dwell in his own thoughts while she amuses herself gossiping.

And then she starts examining his sister’s relationships, and he still doesn’t catch on. Like a fool he’d believed that her grilling of him the previous week would have been enough to slake her thirst for blood.

Yeah, right.

“At least I know one of my kids will be successful in their relationships, make good decisions, marry well...”

He tunes back in at this point – mostly because of the expectant silence...

“Er, yeah,” he agrees, heart sinking. Would it be too obvious if he ended the call now? Maybe feign another call on his mobile? (his mum’s practically the only person who ever uses his landline number. He honestly doesn’t know why she even has a mobile phone).

“Son, I know you say you’re no longer with this Bryan, but I’m your mum, so I know you have another sweetheart. Now, I’m not going to say anything about you having your eye on another bloke while you was with this Bryan – that’s not my business – but don’t treat me like an idiot. Oh of course you don’t have to tell me details or anything, but a name would be nice...”

First of all how the fuck does she know this? Is that what being a mother entails, you knowing your son has his eye on a bloke when there’s no, absolutely no fucking reason on this Earth you could  _ possibly _  know that?

“Mum,” he protests, because honestly?

“I swear I won’t go on about it.” Yeah, right. “But just tell me his name.”

He can sense she’s grinning, that conspiratorial grin she gets some time and for a crazy minute he finds himself actively considering telling her about Zayn...

And OK, if the thing with Zayn was any other way; if  _ he _ wasn’t just a bloke with a massive crush on a straight guy he’d tell her – Zayn or not – but she thinks it’s a proper  _ relationship _ so it would be incredibly unfair to do that to her.

But he’s crap at making shit up so he says. “His name’s Zedd.”

And that’s an even bigger mistake because he’s foolishly overlooked the fact that Zedd is not just Zayn’s initial, it’s an actual person’s  _ name _ .

And oh crap.

**

Jovan is a tartar.

And that’s to understate things by some distance.

Liam would rather use his hands than his brain and Jovan wants him to use his brain,  _ insists _ he uses his brain.

Though Liam doesn’t like to say it, Jovan doesn’t look like he’d know how to change a fucking light bulb, but he certainly knows how to use his brain and since this is all to Liam’s advantage he can’t seriously complain.

Well, he can, but tries hard not to.

First thing Jovan does is sit Liam down and grill him on his business plan, on his manifesto, his goals and vision for his company.

Painful enough but then he starts getting  _ personal _ , taking a precise scalpel to open him up and pull his secrets out.

Oh not secrets about his love life, sexual kinks or family history, no worse than that – his perception of himself, the world, his place in the world.

Liam has no idea why any of that would even be relevant to anything, but he doesn’t really feel in a position to argue the point.

This takes up the first 90 minutes after which the prospective new manager arrives.

She’s an older woman, tall, slender, almost forbidding in the severity of her dress, demeanour.

Liam swallows a disappointed sigh on seeing her.

Maggie was a disaster, but at least she’d been young, colourful – fun – and it’s not like he hadn’t got on with her – she’d just been shit at her job.

He can’t see himself gelling with this woman at all, and of course he’d been too embarrassed to stipulate that one of the new manager’s essential qualities should be her ability to gel with him (not that he could see Jovan giving this any consideration whatsoever).

Thing is he isn’t compelled to  _ keep _ her – Jovan had made it clear there’d be a trial period – on both sides – after which they’d take it where it needed to go, so he’ll suck it up, be pleasant to her, give it the best shot he can.

Her name’s Mercedes, which is the first surprise – she certainly doesn’t look like a Mercedes.

The second is her voice; it’s deep, cultured, compelling, enough to change his perception of her in a flash, seamlessly turning her thin severity into sophisticated cool.

But more than all of that - she turns out to simply be  _ nothing _ like he’d been expecting.

She has a dry, very quick wit and, most important of all, she gets  _ his _ dry humour too, something Maggie never had. 

She also treats Jovan like a clever child, winking at Liam behind his back as he’s being his usual casually insulting self.

Okay, if Liam had any ego left to bruise it would be feeling extremely bruised by yet another demonstration of his utter inability to judge character based on first impressions.

Clearly, he is absolutely shit at it.

**

Jovan takes his leave at 2, smiling as they shake hands, yet modestly demurring when Liam offers his sincere gratitude.

He doesn’t say he’s being paid handsomely for his time, but Liam assumes he’s being paid handsomely for his time (so he’ll have to thank Zayn at some point then).

“Well,” he says, trying hard not to sound too relieved as he turns back to Mercedes.

Judging by her sly grin he’s failed.

He returns the grin, saying. “Got a lot of energy, that one.”

“Oh yeah, does a decent impression of the Duracell Bunny, that’s for sure.”

“Erm, are you allowed to mock your boss like that?”

She gives a rude snort. “Anyone young enough for me to have put across my knee a decade ago can’t be my boss.” She’s sorting papers, not meeting his eye, and he starts wondering if he’s inadvertently offended her.

Ordinarily he’d just assume he had and proceed to subtly do something to rectify it, but he’d made a Decision, hadn’t he and that Decision had changed things, changed him, so he comes closer, waits until she looks up at him. “Okay, thinking about it, you probably don’t have a boss as such, do you? Probably an independent contractor?”

The look she gives him is, in his opinion, slightly pitying, the way older women tend to look at youngsters who they’ve ascertained based on observation or an overabundance of readily available evidence, simply don’t have a clue. “You’re not wrong. Never been called an independent contractor before, but I’ll take it.” Her bright, genuine, smile is, once again, giving him that nagging sense of familiarity he’s been struggling to trace back to its source all morning.

Had he not known it was impossible he’d swear he’d met her or someone very like her before and not that long ago either; more than likely a customer, since customers are the primary source of social interaction in his life these days.

Liam would be the first to admit he isn’t particularly  _ good _ when it comes to customer relations – always pleasant, charming even, just not great at truly separating them as individuals with all their various quirks etc. He tended to remember them at the level of the quirks of the specific  _ job _ rather than tying it to a face or a name, so knew it would be impossible to recall the name or face with any degree of certainty. 

It’s going to nag at him, though, that much he knows for sure.

“So, am I still required or can I catch up on my appointments, now?”

He can tell by her neutral expression she thinks he’s an idiot.

She says, “Well, all today’s appointments have been rescheduled and there’s still a lot to do today so if you don’t mind staying a few more hours to get me properly situated...” Though she’s currently being ultra polite, something tells him this won’t last. He can tell that once they get more familiar she’ll open up more, be less ‘secretary’, more friend and advisor (the way his sisters are). She’s his mum’s age – slightly older perhaps – but she’s nothing like his mum, definitely more like his sisters than his mum and he genuinely looks forward to building a relationship with her.

He groans. “Mercedes, you can already see I’m hopeless when it comes to admin stuff. You probably already know more about this office than I do...” Even though he gets more of the sister vibe from her he doesn’t see why he wouldn’t try the ‘mum, I’m your beloved son and er I’m struggling, here, so er could you possibly use your precious time to do this thing for me that I  _ could _ do, but I’m too bone idle to do myself. Please?’ What’s he got to lose? And 99 times out of a 100 it works on any woman older than 45, so there’s a good chance...

“Well, technically, maybe, but the truth is you’re the expert, here, Liam.” She shrugs. It’s not a nice shrug, it’s an ‘I see your game, mister, and guess what, I can beat you at it – with both hands tied behind my back’ shrug – a cold-hearted sister shrug. “We’ll run through a few things and I promise you you’ll find it a lot less painful than the 6 hours you spent with Jovan.”

“6 hours? You sure it was only 6?”

She’s grinning. “Well, technically it was 7 – we had a 45 minute break and then there was the 45 minutes he spent shaking his head at your sales process – or lack of a sales process.”

Liam shares her grin. “True, true.” He gives a gusty sigh. “So we’ll be done by 4?”

Her smile is bright – suspiciously bright; he has  _ sisters _ . “Of course – unless we run into any snags.”

And he knows by the wattage of the smile and the casual delivery of the line that he’ll be lucky to leave his office that night...

Oh great.

At least  _ Loki _ will be happy.

Liam swears he welcomes any and every chance to spend the day in the embrace of anyone other than him – preferably a female anyone, Zayn being the sole exception.

Speaking of whom...

Liam is curious about the relationship she has with Jovan and of course the relationship Jovan has with Zayn.

Is her relationship with Jovan completely separate from  _ his _ relationship with Zayn? Is she aware he has a relationship with Zayn? How do they know each other? Does Jovan run a consultancy catering to people other than Zayn?

He has all these questions running through his head and he would love answers but he’s good enough at reading sisters and mothers to understand that Mercedes will be more amenable once they’ve got some work under their belts.

Like Jovan she’s clearly someone who also ‘likes to get on with it’.

So he allows her to put him through his paces for a solid, gruelling 3 hours and once it’s clear she’s pretty much done for the day he decides to offer her coffee and expensive biscuits, make her feel his appreciation of her tireless efforts to bring him into the 21 st century (he’d overheard Jovan saying that to her) – and then grill her.

“These are pretty moreish,” she says with unladylike gusto, biting messily into a massive chocolate finger.

“Yeah,” he agrees, wondering if it would be too facetious to ask her how she got saddled with the name Mercedes. “I keep those for the special customers.”

“And you know what I told you about that.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah – every customer is special.”

“Good. Now try believing it.” She’d have a better chance of being taken seriously if she wasn’t busy scoffing biscuits and gulping coffee.

Anyone would think he’d  _ starved _ her.

And no offence, but to look at her one had to assume whatever she ate went right through her – with nary a backward glance.

“Doing my best,” he lies.

Again, had she not been busy stuffing her face she’d undoubtedly have called him on that one.

Always the skinny ones; that’s what his mum always used to bitterly lament.

Now he can see her point.

“Seriously, though, some of the things you taught me, never in a million years would it ever have occurred to me that something like that would have been effective. Those things honestly work? Mental.”

“Sales is all about psychology, though, Liam, and people, well, we’re a pretty mental bunch, when all’s said and done.”

He can’t argue with that, so doesn’t, just sips contentedly at his extremely nice coffee, all the while wondering how to get to where he wants to get.

“So, you known Jovan long?”

“Yeah, since he was about 11.”

This surprises him, which is, of course, an understatement. “Really? So, you’re...” Well, okay, he has no intentions of making this particular assumption – to anyone’s  _ face _ – but in private, it’s okay to assume that Jovan is of mixed heritage. So she could be related.  _ Has _ to be related, really. “You’re his auntie or something?”

Her frown is not an offended frown, it’s a very surprised frown, an ‘oh, you didn’t know?’ frown. He expects her to say. ‘Of course I’m his auntie, why do you think we have the relationship we obviously have?’

She doesn’t say that, she says. “I’m  _ Zayn’s _ auntie.”

And the fact that she has said the Z word when no-one, no-one around Zayn, including himself has ever said the Z word (his mum is the only one who ever says the Z word)  is so fucking astonishing he’s rendered utterly speechless.


	19. Chapter 19

So, you can either acknowledge what she’s said and thus be forced to bring Zayn up in conversation (well, she brought him up first, but still) or say: “Oh.” And act like you haven’t been poleaxed.

She helps by apparently not expecting any other type of response.

Her response is so contrary to what he thinks she _should_ be doing he spends precious minutes attempting to assess it – all without appearing to be giving the thing any more thought than she clearly thinks it deserves.

She expects him to know she’s related to Zayn.

She _expects_ him to know.

Why?

 _Why_ would he know she’s related to Zayn?

Could it be that she’s _assumed_ Zayn’s told him she’s his auntie?

And if so, again why? Why would Zayn have told him in the first place and why would she _assume_ Zayn had told him?

Was that why she was being so friendly because she’d made certain assumptions about his and Zayn’s relationship?

Does she think they’re friends?

Well, he supposes some people might assume what they have is a friendship.

He doesn’t, but that’s because he doesn’t _see_ it as a friendship – not in the way he’s used to seeing friendships  - and has assumed Zayn is likewise disinclined to label it that way.

He doesn’t see it as a friendship because he wants so much more from Zayn and the effort  to change that, change the want into something a little more manageable is a very recent adjustment, an adjustment he’d be the first to acknowledge he’s still struggling with when it comes to actively defining their relationship.

Zayn, he is fairly certain, has no trouble defining their relationship, and Liam’s also fairly certain he would prefer not to have a window into Zayn’s soul when it comes to this particular thing.

Yes, he’s getting over the embarrassment of seeing himself through Zayn’s eyes – the neediness, the obvious lusting – but the memory of it still has the capacity to deliver a painful sting.

But what has Zayn told his auntie? Or rather is it that he hasn’t actually told her anything, just left things out there for whomever it may concern to assess as they see fit, free to get it completely twisted? Pretty standard operating procedure for Zayn as far as he can tell.

Liam knows that in Mercedes shoes he’d also assume Zayn would only enlist her services – and Javon’s -  on behalf of someone he’d consider a close friend so yeah, her assumptions definitely make sense.

But since she’s Zayn’s auntie, shouldn’t she be aware that there are  myriad things Zayn may choose to do that are likely to make no fucking sense whatsoever?

“I know this is going to sound a bit cheesy.” He has no idea why he started the sentence that way, especially as it’s true. He should at least have given her the opportunity to make that assessment for herself without putting the idea in her head before she’d even _heard_ the cheesy sentiment.  “But you’ve been a lifesaver for me today. I may seem like a bit of a dunce, but I’m bright enough to recognise all the things you and Javon have done over and above the things you actually _needed_ to do. I know you’ve both gone the extra mile and I am really grateful for that.”

Her ready smile – and of course he can see Zayn’s mum and thus Zayn in that smile now – generously forgives him for resorting to cheesiness, taking the potential for cringing discomfort all the way down to zero. “I love what I do, and as bosses go – you’re a good ‘un.” She laughs lightly here as at some private joke and he just knows she’s talking about Javon, maybe even Zayn. “So, trust me, the pleasure is all mine. Now, if you hand over my set of keys I’ll lock up and open up early tomorrow morning. You, get yourself home. It’s been a long day.” Another laugh. “I know how much you hate office work.”

“And I thought I was doing a bang up job of hiding it,” he says, tone bristling with irony.

“Not so much.”

They laugh again, lightly bantering as he hands over the spare set of keys, more than happy to leave his business in her capable hands.

 

**

 

No, he has no reason to be anywhere near Zayn’s flat on his drive home, and he’s still trying to find an excuse as he winds his way down the narrow road – well, the road isn’t actually that narrow, it’s just that there are Range Rovers and unnecessarily large cars parked on either side of the road, making the space for normal sized cars to drive crazily tiny.

But, heart pounding as he nears Zayn’s home, Liam decides he’s going to stop being so stupidly ashamed of his desire to be around Zayn. He has always loved being around his friends, people whose very presence make him feel good, and Zayn certainly falls into that category.

His trouble, of course, is that he often struggles to find balance, inclined to swing from one extreme to the other without even a _nod_ to the possibility of the middle way.

After examining the way he’d been perceiving Zayn, and his relationship with Zayn, his newfound clarity made him inclined to go cold turkey since that’s how he tended to react to most situations. It’s only now, as he nears his destination, that he realises not only might that not be necessary, it might even be a little counterproductive, because what if going cold turkey duped you into thinking you’d _handled_ the feelings? Not being around him made it easy to believe you had things under control, but

what if it only took seeing him to trigger you, make you realise you hadn’t actually _handled_ a damn thing?

So maybe the best thing would be learning how to handle the feelings under the most adverse conditions possible – in his presence.

Liam honestly has no idea if the feelings he has for Zayn would, under these conditions, lessen or maybe even intensify.

All he knows is that either way he wants to be around Zayn, wants to properly forge a _friendship_ with him this time round, because who’s to say this subsequent friendship might not actively _change_ those feelings into something a _lot_ more platonic?

But he doesn’t get the opportunity to start testing the theory – there are no cars parked outside Zayn’s home and instinctively Liam knows Zayn’s away, maybe will be for some time; he still has a lot of  commitments, after all.

The disappointment is honestly a surprise, but he realises soon after that he’d unconsciously been gearing himself for _something_ , the high from the day spent with both Mercedes and Javon engendering within him a real gratitude toward Zayn, a need to thank him, show his appreciation, and the let down is a surprise simply because he hadn’t consciously acknowledged his feelings.

He drives on past the house, silently cursing himself for still not having his shit together, while at the same time promising to forgive himself for it taking more than five minutes for him to become an entirely different person...

 

**

“So, you’re back then.”

“Wow, I see getting fucked through the mattress on a regular hasn’t cost you that one remaining brain cell then. Yeah, He is back, back from the wilds of ooh arr ooh arr country. Mate, I swear I expected to see Wurzel Gummidge behind me every time I stepped foot out my front door. It is fucking mental down there!”

Liam chooses to ignore the first part – hasn’t told him about Bryan yet – and instead berate him for his unapologetic prejudice against anyone not from the Midlands – West midlands to be precise. Matt seems to believe that civilisation begins in the Black Country, ends the moment you step outside Birmingham – and acts accordingly. How he was persuaded to spend even a day in Bristol, Liam has no clue.

“Mate, I know for a fact Bristol isn’t anything like that-“

“You ever been?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Oh you mean that one time we all went to see that fucking bridge? Mate, that does not count. That was a school trip. How many natives did we get to actually meet? Exactly – _none_!”

“Oh right. How about them girls you was trying to chat up?”

“ _Trying_ to chat up. Did you get that – _trying_ to. Reason it failed is because I couldn’t understand a fucking word coming out their mouths, plus they sounded dumb as fuck. Who wants to sleep with someone who sounds like a fucking yokel?”

“A guy who doesn’t care where he puts his dick so long as it’s tight and wet?”

“Oh, hold on a second. That’s never been it.”

“Right.”

“Okay, maybe when I was a kid, but that was a blip, mate – a blip. I value intelligence. I mean you wanna have a bit of convo with the person sucking your cock – I mean, just a bit. What’s the point otherwise?”

“And the worse thing is I think you’re actually _buying_ your shit. But guess what? I fucking know you, have done for fucking years, so maybe rewind, check who’re you’re trying to bullshit and start again.”

There’s a brief – very brief – silence on the line, followed by a gusty sigh and he can just picture Matt’s exasperated expression.

That is, of course, the trouble with people who’ve known you for so long, seen all the warts, all the hidden soft spots – you can’t be anyone else with them the way you can with other people. And that has been the problem at times with their friendship because sometimes Liam _wants_ to be a different person, it’s just that Matt won’t let him.

But maybe, when all’s said and done, he’s guilty of doing the same with Matt.

“Okay, okay, maybe I’ve been a bit of a tit about stuff in the past, but that’s the _past_. I’m a changed man.”

“What’s her name and can we give her a medal – or a timely warning?”

Another brief silence, qualitatively different from before, however, enough so that Liam finds himself frowning.

Has matt actually fallen for someone? “Mate?”

“Er, I did kinda meet someone, yeah, but it’s early days...”

He sounds so unMattlike Liam isn’t sure how to respond. “Oh okay. Man, that’s great. She local – to Bristol, I mean?”

Another tense silence.

Oh fuck – _another_ married woman? What the hell is wrong with the guy? “Mate, is she married?” He doesn’t even try to keep the disapproval from his voice.

“What? No. You don’t think I learned my lesson the last time? I told you I was never gonna go there again!”

He sounds so incensed Liam believes him, though Matt has been known to boldly lie to your face when it suits.

“Okay, so what is it then?”

“Look, don’t make too big a thing of this, okay?”

Liam knows that’s something he can’t really promise, but if Matt’s asking then of course he’ll _agree_ not to. “Okay.”

Another intake of breath. “It’s a bloke.”

 

**

 

Loki has never particularly cared for Matt, but then Loki doesn’t really like men.

He’ll tolerate them, allow them to pet him (he’s polite like that), but he reserves the real affection for women.

Liam doesn’t believe there’s a woman Loki has met who he hasn’t taken to. Zayn’s the only bloke, except for Liam’s dad, Loki actively treats the way he treats women.

Matt has never been on the A list.

Matt, not understanding how Loki operates is blissfully unaware that he’s not the favoured male in the room and will insist on treating/talking to Loki like they’re the best of pals.

Loki tolerates it.

Luckily Loki’s with Molly, so he won’t be asked to tolerate Matt’s nonsense when he drops over that evening.

They could have had this conversation over the phone, but apparently Matt believes he’s being bugged by MI6 or maybe even Russian Intelligence, so of course he can only discuss the state secret sex life details in person, in a flat that no self respecting intelligence agency would have any interest in bugging.

Because, yes, Matt is that interesting and important.

But of course Liam is used to Matt’s belief that he is the living embodiment of sexual, social attractiveness, so wasn’t entirely surprised.

He’s looking very attractive, though, and Liam finds himself once again wondering at the vagaries of attraction; how he doesn’t find him sexually appealing at all and never has, but knows he’d find someone who looked like Matt, someone with Matt’s face and body extremely attractive.

A case of familiarity breeding contempt or just something nature takes care that falls beyond the human capacity to work complex shit out?

“Looking good, mate.”

And he definitely is, despite the stairs. (Very few people look good after the stairs, but maybe it’s just that Matt’s _used_ to the stairs).

He’s had a hair cut - well, no, not a haircut, just changed his hairstyle - and it suits him.

Liam will give it a few before suggesting that whoever he’s fucking is rubbing off on him, so much so that before he knows it, he’ll have highlights in his hair, buffed nails, enhanced by clear polish, next stop, a stint as a judge on Queer Eye.

How ironic that would be given the crap Matt’s said about the show.

Liam’s so far manfully refrained from asking why it is he watches it every week, but maybe after this new wrinkle...

It’s a new wrinkle for sure, definitely out of character, but not because Matt’s straight. No, it’s newsworthy because Matt’s a fuckboy and for some reason he appears to be serious about this bloke – whoever he may be.

They spend a moment exchanging banter about Liam’s apartment as compared to Matt’s. Matt even asks him where Loki’s hiding before presenting the lager he brought with him and settling in front of the tv.

They’re not there to watch tv but they can’t make it too obvious their intent is to have a – manly – heart-to-heart, thus the television.

Liam, aware that no way Matt’s going to initiate, takes the bull by the horns.

“So, this bloke...”

“What about him?” His eyes are glued to the screen.

Liam rolls his eyes – at the predictability of Matt’s behaviour. “Name for a start.”

“William.”

Liam stifles a snort. William isn’t a name that by rights should engender the urge to giggle, but _William_? No wonder Matt’s embarrassed. Liam suppresses the impulse to speculate whether this William and his old fashioned name is in any way akin to the way Bryan’s name couldn’t prepare you for how stunning the guy actually was.

“William,” he says thoughtfully, hoping he won’t be pulling teeth _all_ the way through this.

“Yeah,” Matt agrees, still staring straight ahead of him.

“Where did you meet him?”

“Er, I forget.”

He’s actually blushing and Liam can’t quite work out what that means in terms of the naffness of their meeting.  Does it mean it was cliché and work is where they met or does it mean that falling for this guy, _coupled_ with the way they met makes Matt cringe in mortification?

Liam’s guessing the latter.

“Ah, love at first sight then.”

He’d meant that as a stupid joke, a poke at him but when he sees Matt’s face, the way Matt’s turned to look at him, eyes wide, frowns, sits a little straighter, realising for the first time that this really is no joke at all.

“Mate,” he says, not sure why he’s offering him sympathy, except well, there are plenty of reasons why.

Matt turns abruptly away, occupying himself with a long swallow of lager.

Liam assumes he’s thinking better of his impulse to spill his guts, and completely understands, except he has no intention of letting him leave without spilling his guts.

He knows how stupid it is not to talk about things.

Had he had someone to talk to about Bryan, about Zayn...

“Would it help if I told you I’m sort of all gaga over someone – someone I can’t ever have and I think it was also love at first sight for me, too?”

Matt, because he only pretends to be a self-absorbed ass immediately gets that it’s not Bryan he’s talking about. “Not Bryan I take it.”

“We’re finished.”

“Mate, that took what, all of 5 minutes?”

“To be fair, when I met Bryan I was already hung up on this guy.”

“Ah.”

“I should never have started anything with Bryan. He’s a good bloke and I actually do still really, really like him, but this other bloke... Bryan couldn’t really compete, and I sort of knew that, but dated him anyway. I sort of had to tell him about this other bloke and it was tough because in the end it just seemed like I was using him for sex, really. Mate, it was pretty bad.”

“And this other bloke – he’s already got someone?”

Liam shrugs. For all he knows Zayn does have someone. How would he know? “Mate, worse.”

Their eyes meet.  “You’re fucking kidding. Straight?”

And so much more, which he won’t reveal since he’s never going to let anyone know about Zayn. He has no idea what would garner more disdain – the straight thing, or the celebrity thing. Well, at least the straight thing’s alright to reveal.  “Listen, you do not have to tell me-“

“Hold up a sec.” Matt’s placed his can carefully on the table before turning to Liam so Liam knows it’s going to get serious. “Now, I’m not the most perceptive bloke in the world, but even I could see this Bryan was gone on you. Right? Yeah, it was pretty fucking obvious, mate, so let me get this straight in my head: you have a bloke who thinks the sun shines out your arse, yet you dump him – or let yourself get dumped – for a guy who’s straight and may be already dating someone? What, is he a client or something?”

“Not a client. Met him in the park one day and we sort of bonded over Loki.” Well, that isn’t exactly a _lie_.

“Right, so you’re friends, then? He local?”

Liam resists the urge to snort at that. “Er, I think he’s moving to Worcestershire.”

“So, not even local then.” Mat doesn’t even need to _say_ the words (though chances are good that he will at some point) for Liam to know just how stupid this looks. “But you’re friends.”

“Er...”

Matt’s stare is made up of equal parts astonished and on-the-cusp-of-beating-your-stupid-arse-for-you.

Great, just great.

Note to self: in future don’t throw _yourself_ under a bus in a bid to help out a mate.

“I’d a thought you’d at least manage to get _friendship_ out of this.”

“I didn’t say we aren’t friends. Did I say we aren’t friends?”

“No, but you seemed pretty hesitant about saying you _are_.”

“Look, mate, it’s complicated.”

“Not from where I’m standing. Okay, wait a sec.” He’s wearing his serious expression. “As a guy who’s mostly been straight I can tell you how I see gay guys who wanna be ‘friends’ with me.”

Liam sighs. “Please don’t.”

“I’d take what I could from them, lead them on but the minute they tried anything I’d deck ‘em.”

“Is this a fantasy or?”

“Seriously, that would have been my mindset and I guarantee it’s the mindset of most straight guys who aren’t homophobic dickheads. Tolerate him, yeah, and maybe feel flattered – especially if he’s easy on the eye - but the minute he reads more into it, lay him out.”

“Does the laying him out part really need to happen?”

“Okay, no, but it could – with other blokes who aren’t as nice as me. Point is, he’s just using you.”

“You are really trying to tell me that you would think a gay guy hanging around, being friends with you was only after your bod?”

“Is that a trick question, mate?”

“I’m not fucking talking about _me_. Like I could ever- Mate, do _not_ fucking flatter yourself!”

“Just checking.”

He grins, waggling his eyebrows at him in a way that makes Liam roll his eyes.

“You are so not my type.”

“Yeah, mate, keep telling yourself that.”

It’s an old joke, given life once Liam admitted his attraction to other guys, resurrected every few months since then.

Liam wonders that neither of them has tired of it yet, and the thing is he can get his own back now, can’t he?

Obviously Matt’s feeling a bit fragile either because he doesn’t want to be a guy who actually has _feelings_ for the guys he fucks or because there are issues with the guy he’s fallen for. Liam knows Matt well enough to know he’ll be able to rib him about this new turn at some point in the future (Matt doesn’t take himself seriously for long),just has a feeling it won’t be any time soon.

He does want to know about this William, though.

“Speaking of types, so what’s this William like then?”

Matt gives him an unfriendly look. “And you can stop saying his name like that, right fucking now.”

“What? Saying his name like what? All I said was ‘William’. Explain to me what’s wrong with that.”

“Fuck off, mate.”

And Liam laughs because yeah, he really does need to fuck off. “Okay, okay, but seriously, what’s he like?”

“Thought we was talking about you and your new ‘friend’.”

Oh it must be really bad if he’s going to keep deflecting like that.

Could Matt be in love love?

Not possible.

Matt has never, ever been in love.

They grew up together, have been aware of all the dates, the relationships, the reality of the commitment - or otherwise - in each of these relationships. Hell, Matt was the one who made him admit he was into guys – not because he was attracted to him or because Matt confronted him about it (he did, but that’s not why), but because Matt unapologetically fucked whoever he pleased – and that apparently included the occasional guy.

Matt, who, up until then Liam truly believed to be the straightest guy in England, was unapologetic about being attracted enough to another bloke to sleep with him (sometimes multiple times), which made _him_ start questioning his own stance when it came to being attracted to other guys – that it wasn’t for him; that he wasn’t and never could be.

Matt fucked other guys and openly told him he did, not expecting Liam to have anything negative to say about it, not expecting him to treat it any differently than he did Matt’s escapades with women and that made him start thinking about his own experience with guys, revisiting certain incidents he’d actively suppressed.

Liam’s long concluded that Matt’s a menace, making Liam confront aspects of his personality he doesn’t necessarily want to, while all the while remaining blissfully unaware.

Well, maybe that’s what some friendships are for.

They know each other too well – in certain ways – leading to a sense of both comfort, but also stagnation, yet of all the people in his life Matt’s definitely the one who’s made him change the most. He’s fairly sure Matt wouldn’t say the same of him, but he’s still here after all these years and maybe, before the world ends he’ll have the balls to actually tell Liam what he came here to tell him.

He knows Matt and Matt wouldn’t have made the journey here if he didn’t want to talk about this thing that’s obviously weighing on his mind.

Liam suspects that all he wants to do is gush about this bloke, but that is so not his usual MO he’s finding himself paralyzed by all those conflicting emotions.

A few beers might help, maybe even letting him stay over...

 

 

**

 

“You do know I have to be in the office by 7:30.”

“And?”

“And, you’ve got me up drinking and shit.”

“Mate...”

“No, seriously, I only ever do shit like this when you’re around.”

“Your new ‘friend’ don’t drink?”

He frowns, unable to immediately answer that, but also, sarcastic prick! “Not like he’s on a mission to drink England dry, no.”

“I ain’t even tipsy, mate.” He examines the label on his beer. “This piss is weak as...piss.”

“No, not tipsy at all. Mate, you are pissed!”

“Not.”

“Not going there, mate. Like I said, some of us have to work tomorrow.”

“I do, too.”

“Did you forget you told me you got the week off and I quote: “to recover from being trapped in ooh arr ooh arr country for a fucking month!’”

If his confused expression is anything to go by, yeah he’d forgotten.

Of course, you always had to take much of what this guy said with a grain of salt, so maybe he didn’t have the week off at all.

“But where’s the food, bro? How are you gonna let me drink on an empty stomach?”

“I’m not fucking cooking for you!”

He fumbles for his phone, points it at Liam. “And that’s what this is for.”

“Go on then. I fancy a curry.”

“You _always_ ‘fancy a curry’. I swear your next boy’s gonna be someone who owns or works in an Indian takeaway!” And it’s just banter, just Mat being Matt, but of course, for Liam it hits unexpectedly close to the truth, full as he is of Zayn, full as he has always been of Zayn, and of course he can’t hide the expression on his face quickly enough for Matt not to notice.

With sinking heart Liam intuits that unless he’s extremely sharp, extremely careful, Matt is about to get him to spill some Zayn related beans, and he’s been drinking, neither extremely sharp nor capable of being that careful, so Matt looking suddenly far from tipsy, indeed bright eyed with sly intelligence does not bode at all well for the next few hours...

Note to self: do not throw yourself under the bus just so your mate doesn’t have to feel uncomfortable about falling for another guy and subsequently talking about it, even though he came to your flat with the express intention of doing exactly that.

Also: do not fucking drink with this joker – you will always, _always_ end up regretting it...


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

 

 

Had they not been drinking throughout the evening things might have ended differently.

They probably would have bantered for a little while until Liam, insisting on retiring for the night, encouraged Matt to do the same.

However...

It did sort of happen as a direct result of his desperate attempts to deflect the inquisition he knew would almost certainly have him spilling every last gobbet of truth from his weak as piss guts.

Didn’t they say, though, that the more you tried running from a thing the more likely you were to end up running smack into it – at speed?

Well, he should have known that’s how it would go.

But, in his defence, he _had_ been drinking - throughout the evening...

Matt is capable of subtlety, because Matt is very, very astute when it comes to knowing what makes people tick. Matt’s so clever he cleverly makes himself _appear_ to be a shallow, not particularly bright dickhead, all the better to get you to let down your defences - underestimate him – all of which means  he tends to get the upper hand without even trying.

Basically Matt lets you play into his hands – not something he does, something you do to _yourself_.

And because Liam has seen him do this so many times, very aware of the reality of Mat’s intelligence and perceptiveness he is alive to the trick. But, and this is the kicker, his hyper awareness not only offers little to no actual immunity, it holds its own danger in that his desire to not be caught makes him liable to end up playing himself, which is how he ends up tangled in a web of his own making, with Matt quietly observing the ongoing train wreck from the sidelines.

He ends up telling Matt more than he could ever have expected to find out, and it’s only later, when he wakes with a banging head, coupled with a nagging sense of impending doom that he recalls the night before, the conversation that turned his world upside down.

He doesn’t particularly want to face Matt and is confident he won’t have to –Matt loves his sleep – but they missed out on an important conversation the night before so he has no option but to wake him.

He waits until he’s ready to leave before bearding the lion in his den.

Matt’s fair hair is in complete disarray, his lightly tanned, very naked torso on display, because even unconscious, Matt’s an egotistical bastard.

Matt’s always been fit, a gym rat, an obsessive player of sports, but Liam can see he’s in better shape than ever, and what, is that a tattoo?

Matt hates tats, has always had something to say about tats, especially on women, swore up and down he would never get one, and yet...

It’s on his hip, low on his hip and it would take Liam adjusting the sheet to really clock it, which would, of necessity, mean clocking more than he really wants to clock, so he’ll just have to ask and hope Matt’s more forthcoming than he has been up till now.  Chances of that seem remote, given that Liam will bet actual money on the tat having something to do with this bloke he seems to be doing everything in his power to avoid talking about.

Maybe if when he shakes him he shakes him via his thigh or something.

Would that work?

And maybe, in the process, accidentally push the cover to one side?

Of course the minute he reaches out Matt’s grey eyes flick open, displaying an unnerving suspicion.

He’s just woken up, why the fuck is he immediately suspicious?

Paranoid bastard.

“The fuck time is it?” His voice is rough with sleep, and Liam will guarantee Matt will barely hear what he has to say – not because he’s not fully present, but because he’s going to be so irritated at missing even a minute of extra sleep time he’ll shut him out.

“Time for me to go to work. I’m leaving the spare key so you can come and go as you please. You gonna be here when I get back right?”

Groaning, he turns away and Liam hopes against hope he’ll be able to clock the tat. He does see a little more, but not enough to really make sense of it.  “And you had to wake me up to fucking tell me that? Leaving the key on the table with a fucking note would have worked, mate. Fuck you!”

Liam fights back a grin. This guy knows him too, too well. “See you tonight then?”

The only answer he gets is the pulling of covers to cover Matt from head to ankle – his foot is still hanging off the edge of the bed.

Liam does try, but the lure of that foot is simply too hard to resist, besides he needs to take advantage while he can – it’s been too long since he’s been able to get back at Matt for being a dick.

So, he says a final farewell by taking hold of his foot and pulling him off the bed, running out the room before Matt can find the presence of mind to gather his dignity and retaliate.

Well, he’ll no doubt pay for it later, but that can’t take away the satisfaction of witnessing the undignified naked sprawl, accompanied by the girlish yelp.

The amusement stays with him throughout the day, because yeah, that’s just how it is with Matt – his charisma enough to make Liam feel better even when he isn’t there.

It’s different with Zayn, but now, after last night’s conversation, Liam’s determined to see this change.

 

**

Mercedes is already in the office by the time he gets there.

He sort of knew she would be, but is still surprised and gratified when he sees her dark head bent over the keyboard, inhales the very particular aroma of expensive coffee brewing.

“Wow, you here already? I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Good morning. Well, I always like to get an early start. Besides, I do need to get everything in order for the new manager and the clock’s ticking.”

Well, okay, there is one other thing she has in common with Zayn – this ability to say the most astonishing things in the manner of one ‘simply imparting information we both already know, therefore, no biggie, right?’

New manager? What?

“Er, how do you mean?”

She peers up at him, eyebrow raised. “I’m training up the new manager. Didn’t Javon tell you?”

Well, no, but the only thing Javon’s ‘told’ him is that he’s a shit business owner...

“I assumed he meant you.”

She smiles a smile only mothers seem to have mastered, the ‘oh son, what am I going to do with you, bless your very pathetic, ignorant but sweet heart’. “No, I’m just helping him out. We’ve got a few candidates lined up for you. Now, I personally would expect you to choose the manager yourself, but Javon says you’re happy to leave it to us...”

He nods numbly, trying hard to hide his disappointment. He likes her, Javon, too, and he doesn’t get to keep either of them? Well, fuck! “Yeah, I trust you. I’m sure you know what it takes to run this office the way it should be.” He personally thinks he sounds pathetic, but he’s not at his best – it’s early in the morning and he’s _very_ disappointed. “So, how long do I have you for?”

Her expression gives no indication of her awareness of his shock and disappointment. “I expect to have the office in order by the end of the week, including having the manager completely familiar with the systems and the way you like things done. We also have a sales pro coming in. She won’t be full-time, just a consult as and when you and the manager decide to run a sales promotion. The manager’s also a sales pro, so he’ll run the office and take care of your PR too.”

“Sounds expensive.”

She makes a face. “Not going to lie – they do attract a premium remuneration package, but they will pay you back. That’s why we’re not just giving you admin support. Javon’s right – this business can really blow up.” She chuckles. “I can tell you still have a hard time believing that, but trust me when I tell you the potential here is amazing. Javon, in case you don’t know yet, doesn’t bother with failing enterprises, doesn’t matter how much money you throw at him. If he doesn’t think he can blow your business up, you don’t get his services, so, believe us, Liam you are sitting on a gold mine. Having said that, we think the business can easily, easily absorb the cost of your new manager and sales team. With the new sales strategy you’ll attract clients who’ll pay their wages ten times over.”

“Okay.” Despite his natural scepticism, her confidence and sincerity are starting to stir something deep within. “And you think I need to get more fitters to help me expand.”

“That side of thing is yours to handle, just commit to getting the very best – you can afford it, and it will pay off in the end. Also _expand_ that side of the business. The sales team will take care of bringing in new business, but a major selling point will be the superior customer service, which, of course, goes hand-in-hand with the quality of the workmanship, so it’s down to you to make that a priority. Okay?”

“Absolutely.” And it absolutely is.

She seems intent on reassuring him he isn’t going to lose anything with her gone and he isn’t going to tell her he doesn’t agree.

He’s only known her a day and already he feels like she’s someone he wants in his life.

He simply has no idea how to tell her this.

 

 

**

 

He’s definitely started to think differently about the business, already planning on the expansion to which both Javon and Mercedes alluded. 

They do seem to have confidence in him,  and though he isn’t exactly sure what they’ve seen to instil that confidence it does make him recognise that he doesn’t have that level of confidence in the contractors he employs in his business – some, but not nearly enough - so that’ll be the first thing he’ll change.

Cogitating on the new plans, rather than leaving him confused or mentally drained, instead energises and excites him so that by the time he heads home late that afternoon, he is feeling very mellow.

He feels even better when he sees that Matt’s cleaned up a bit, not that the place is ever a mess, but he’s been there for hours and the place is still tidy, which means he cleaned up after himself. He definitely cleaned up last night’s detritus.

And cooked!

“Hi, honey, I’m home!”

Matt’s in the kitchen, getting juice from the fridge.

Whatever he’s got bubbling on the stove smells delicious.

“Wow, is that curry?” he blurts out without even thinking.

They stare at each other in semi-awkward silence, each contemplating whether or not to revisit last night right now or save that battle for later.

They silently, mutually, agree to eat first, save it for later. 

“Lamb – it’s the only thing I ever cook, so.”  He seems a little subdued, maybe from the hour spent cooking, and Liam decides to go easy on him – for now.

“Well, if it’s anything like the one you cooked when you had that girl over – what was her name again?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “You seriously expect me to remember?”

“Come on, mate, you liked this one. You don’t cook for just anybody.”

“That is true, except you’re making some gigantic assumptions, there.” He takes a swig of orange juice from the carton, then wipes his mouth, a challenging expression on his face.

Oh, so he wants to go in – straight away?

Okay, just... “Gonna take a piss and change me clothes.”

“Do you mind? No-one needs to know the fucking details, mate!”

“Says the guy who actually told a person who explicitly said they didn’t _want_ to know the graphic details, of that time you had anal sex with a girl and she wasn’t prepared...”

“Had to share the wealth, didn’t I? I fucking swore after that that never again would I ever fucking go there.”

“And yet.”

A nonchalant shrug. “Took better precautions, didn’t I?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Only guys, experienced guys, who know what the fuck they’re doing.”

Liam can’t help it. “Oh, does that include William?”

Matt, takes another swig, watching him over the rim. “Mate,” he says and that’s all he says, but his meaning is crystal clear - leave it the fuck alone.

Rolling his eyes, Liam escapes to the bathroom, not even attempting to keep his ‘musings’ to himself.

Does he really think, after getting all the dirt from Liam, he’s going to be let off the hook, when he’s the one who brought the guy into the picture in the first place?

Yeah, right.

 

**

 

Loki arrives as they’re about to sit down to eat and though Matt happily volunteers to go down to fetch him, Liam demurs, knowing as he does that without him there to keep him in check Loki’s liable to be ignorant as fuck and he really doesn’t want anyone else to know what a dick his dog really is.

Also it would break poor Matt’s heart to know he isn’t on Loki’s A list.

Loki seems relatively happy to see him, ignoring Matt when he spots him at the table.

“Hi, Loki, mate, how you been? Been a while, innit? You doing okay, big man?”

Only after Loki and Liam exchange a look does Loki reluctantly trudge up to Matt, allow himself to be petted for a few minutes.

Liam shakes his head in wonder, forever amazed that no-one else sees Loki’s true colours.

And he and Matt _should_ get on well, given that they’re so alike in that specific way.

Well, maybe that’s why Loki doesn’t warm to him – well, no, he doesn’t warm to him because he isn’t Zayn.

Come to think of it Liam has yet to fathom just what makes Zayn’s so very special in Loki’s book.

He was on him from the start, not a moment’s hesitation, no period of acclimation, getting accustomed to, just straight adoration.

Liam, despite how _he_ feels about Zayn, doesn’t get that.

He pretty much fucking adores Matt, yet Loki can barely summon the common courtesy to even pretend to appreciate the guy’s attention.

Oh well.

At least he’s being polite.

“He’s a good ‘un.” Matt  watches Loki slink back to his corner, a fond look on his face.

Liam shakes his head again.

But no, everyone loves Loki, and since he’s clever enough to hide his lack of interest no-one ever discovers what a tit he really is.

Hold on, who does that remind him of again?

Yeah.

Speaking of being a tit...

“You know, you are gonna have to speak about him some time. I fucking spilled my guts about Zayn, so how about you do the same, cos you can’t tell me that what I had to say isn’t a million times worse, more _stupid_ than anything you could come out with.”

Instead of answering Matt takes a bite of lamb, staring him in the face.

Liam ignores this. “Tit for tat, mate. Spill.”

Matt, turning his attention to his meal, remains silent, but Liam, being an old hand at this game, simply bides his time.

If there’s one thing Liam knows about his friend is that he’ll never make him feel stupid, so if Liam feels stupid about something Matt’s likely to come out with a story that makes himself look just as stupid, if not more so.

But this thing with William must be different otherwise it would already have been told.

“Okay, mate, but can you give me a bit?” Matt’s obviously sincere but his manner is a little off.

The fact he’s even said that makes Liam know this is on a whole other level, because Matt never hesitates to spill the beans on anything and everything, whether it makes him or anyone else look bad. He tells Liam all his dirty secrets, almost like he sees Liam as his repository, his means of keeping it real, keeping it honest.  He doesn’t care that he comes off looking like a prick or an idiot, so this is all about William, then.

Could William be a married man? Is that why he’s so reluctant to talk about him?

Liam knows for a fact that Matt doesn’t give a stuff about either his or anyone else’s fidelity. His philosophy is that if he isn’t actively encouraging, _forcing_ you to cheat then it’s not his place to tell you not to. As far as he’s concerned if someone’s going to cheat he might as well reap the rewards, so it makes sense that William’s married or, at the very least, involved with someone else.

Yet when he swore the other night he meant what he said about never going there again, Liam’s certain he was being sincere...

But Matt’s asked for time so he’ll give it him, but until Matt spills the beams about William Liam can’t really talk about Zayn; they’ve reached that point where the giving and taking has become unbalanced. Last night was all Liam spilling and though he definitely wants them to continue the conversation they started he knows instinctively he has to wait for Matt to get them back in balance.

Matt will have no choice but to spill, which means that, in the meantime, they’re free to pursue other topics.

“So, you definitely have the week off, then.”

“Thank god.”

“So, how do you feel about spending a bit with me at work?”

Matt snorts. “What, like a take your kid to work day?”

“Yeah, take your problem kid to work to scare him straight kinda thing.”

“Right, cos I am really going to be interested in getting a lungful of wood dust and paint, not to mention getting deafened by the constant drilling and hammering and whatever else goes on on a building site.”

“Oh wow, really? You seriously think I’d risk losing clients by having you go on a job with me? No, I was talking about the office. I’ve got this consultant overhauling the sales and management side of things and I thought you might be interested in having a look-“

“Work for you? Mate, I dunno. Not sure I’d be okay licking your boots and tipping my hat every day.”

“First of all, knowing how kinky you are, you probably would be. Second of all – fuck that! I was suggesting you have a word with the consultant, get some insight into her plans for the sales and marketing side of things, see what you think. “

Matt’s doing his best to look disinterested, but Liam knows him too well for him to have any hope of pulling that one off. Still, he gives it his best shot. “Wow, might as well be back at work. Cheers, mate. Thank you for being so willing to bore me to fucking tears.”

Liam rolls his eyes.

 

**

“Mercedes? Was not expecting that one. She built? No wait, let me describe her. Bit busty, bleach blonde, but classy with it. One of them throaty voices that makes you know she’s a pro at sucking cock. Skirt a little too short, blouse a little too tight, make up on point though, jewellery a little too much. Yep, that’s Mercedes in a nutshell.”

“The fuck does her voice have to do with sucking cock?”

Matt taps his nose, winking as he does so. “And that, my son, is why I’m me and you never got good pussy.”

“I never got ‘good pussy’ cos I wasn’t really all that keen on pussy – good or bad.”

“And that’s the fundamental difference between us – you elevate sex to a place it don’t belong. I bet you don’t even know the difference between good cock and bad cock.

“Oh wait, you are now trying to say you’ve had more cock than me?”

“I’ve had more of a _variety_ of cock, yeah. And in any case, that is exactly what I’m saying. I just go for it if it appeals, whereas you’re all: ’but is he good boyfriend material? Will he love me, will I love him? Can we sit down and perv over catalogues of paint and wood and drills? Can I have kids with him, can I bring him home to meet mum and dad? Fuck that! If he’s down, and I’m down, let’s go for it!”

“Okay, but you make it sound like that happens all the time when I know for a fact that it’s _rare_ for you to be that attracted to a bloke. You’re more attracted to women so that’s where you’re gonna look first. I’d say guys only happen when you’re at a loose end and feeling a bit ‘edgy’. To be honest I think the lady doth protest a little too much.”

The sideways glance Matt gives him is very telling, making Liam starkly aware that no matter what comes out of his friend’s mouth next he’s somehow taken a step in the wrong direction but because he’s Matt and a tit like that he’s not about to correct him.

Yeah, cos all he does is give a nonchalant shrug, more than happy to change the subject.

And of course Liam, recognising his mistake, can only seethe, knowing he can’t bring it back – not yet.

Matt, no doubt smugly marking another point on the scorecard, changes the subject. “So, how did you find her? Recommendation?”

“Er, in a way. She’s sort of associated with Zayn.”  He deliberately keeps his gaze averted, knowing full well what he’s likely to see reflected on Matt’s face.

There is a moment of silence and though “Ah,” is all Matt says in the end, never have two letters said so much.

And damn Matt for saying what he said last night, because now the idea’s in his _head_ how the fuck is he meant to shake it?


	21. Chapter 21

 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

“Is it that guy you were always staring at?”

“What? Which guy?”

“You know the one; the one who lives next door to your mum.”

“Bas? No, of course not and we’re not talking about me; don’t try to change-“

“The guy who delivers your meals then.”

“Which guy? It’s not like there’s a regular delivery guy and anyway I don’t always use the same takeaway place, so-“

“Ah, so it is then.”

Liam has no idea how Matt’s reached that conclusion from what he’s just said, but there are times when he can’t easily follow the track of Matt’s thought processes, and besides he’s been too busy praying his friend doesn’t somehow (though it’s beyond unlikely) conclude it’s Zayn he’s talking about.

 Why and how he would he really can’t say except he’s feeling _very_ paranoid right now.

Matt is seemingly determined not to talk about William so he’s going to endeavour to keep Liam on the rack for a lot longer than he might otherwise have done, which means Liam has to be extra vigilant and sly and clever about this.

“Okay, yeah, it’s one of the guys who deliver my meals.”

“And you got talking.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. After them stairs, had to invite him in, get him to rest up for a bit and then we got chatting...”

“What’s his name?”

Shit. “Er, it’s er Javadd. I mean we don’t really use names or anything.”

Matt laughs. “Sounds like the opening lines of some sordid sex memoir.”

“In your world, maybe.” But the truth is he’s feeling a lot more relaxed now he’s successfully sold a lie he hadn’t even known was on the cards. Hopefully Matt will accept it at face value and stop bloody asking shit... He’s already said the guy’s straight and that it’s going nowhere. A sensitive friend would be, well, _sensitive_ , and conclude the subject’s just too painful to delve into.

“So how do you know he’s straight? Did you test the waters?” The wink is needlessly salacious.

“No, he has a girlfriend and judging by the amount he talks about her he’s gaga over her so.”

“So did you fall for him before knowing this or?”

Shit. “Dunno. Look, mate, even knowing someone’s unavailable doesn’t always change how you feel about them.” He gives Mat a pointed look, hoping he’ll hang his head in shame, feel a pang of guilt since William quite clearly falls into this category.

“Yeah?”

The look of guilt, shame or even slight embarrassment is wholly absent plus it’s becoming increasing clear Matt has no intention of talking about William.

“Yeah, love is love regardless.” He pats himself on the back for that one, because way to use a common phrase unironically but still in service to an untruth. He is _definitely_ getting better at this.

Matt’s bark of laughter jerks him rudely from his moment of complacency. “The fuck? You’re claiming you’re in _love_ with this joker? Pull the other one, mate.”

Conveniently overlooking the fact that there is no Javadd, that he is definitely making this shit up Liam takes umbrage at Matt’s attitude. “Well, I wouldn’t expect Mr. Sensitive to understand, but-“

“Mate, you are a shit liar. The first rule of lying is to fucking _remember_ your lies. You said you met this guy in the park, so how come he’s now your delivery guy?”

Shit. He stares blankly at Matt, struggling to think of a way out of this.

 Matt, for his part, offers a casual shrug. “I just wanted to give you enough rope... But look, mate, seriously, if you don’t wanna tell me, it’s fine.”  He even looks – and sounds - like he means it, so Liam, deciding to take him at his word, for the first time in the past hour allows himself to relax.

He doesn’t thank Matt, just inclines his head in his direction, knowing he need do no more than that. Matt can be a pain in the arse but he’s a good friend, really. In fact...

“Just that if you hadn’t said the thing about him being straight I’d have had to say the guy in question is that fucking popstar you’ve been wanking over since you learned what it was for! What’s he call himself again - Zayn?”

Liam is familiar with the phrase: ‘and just for a moment the world stopped’, also very familiar with the phrase: ‘and then his life flashed before his eyes’. It’s just that he’d never thought either of these familiar, popular phrases would ever have any bearing on his life, be anything of which he could later say he had direct experience.

Apparently the guy who initially came up with the phrase must have had a similar experience where he heard something so astonishing it rocked his world completely out of true.

And had _he_ had any sense of self preservation he’d have stared in astonishment at his friend, scoffed, found a tone of utter incredulity, maybe even one of those trilling, mocking laughs that apparently were a big thing in the 18 th century.

But no, he instead sits there with an expression of utter, gormless stupefaction and says not one word.

In his defence it’s actually pretty hard to say anything when your head’s currently acting like a centrifuge and your brain’s just been turned to mush.

Matt’s staring back at him, brow dramatically furrowed.

He looks genuinely confused.

“Mate, I was just fucking _joking_. You are seriously trying to tell me...? Oh wow! _Seriously_? The fuck?”

At this point Liam should be taking the lifeline extended to him and lying through his fucking teeth. The trouble is it’s not that somehow, beyond all the realms of possibility, Matt’s hit on Zayn as the guy in question, it’s that Matt thinks Zayn isn’t straight and well, he can’t let that one go, can he?

“How do you mean if I hadn’t said he was straight?”

There’s a moment when they’re just staring at one another, on different sides of a river that is by turns both blue and yellow – blue on Matt’s side; yellow on Liam’s, and though they’re both aware of this, can find no way to make themselves see the colour so obvious to the other.

Matt honestly looks more perplexed than Liam can ever remember seeing.

Any other time and he’d be crowing at the fact of genuinely astounding his friend.

Any other time.

Right now he wants answers.

“What?” Matt sounds like that’s pretty much all he’s capable of saying at that moment, but Liam wants _answers_...

“You don’t think he’s straight? Why the fuck would you think he isn’t straight? Have you never seen his fucking girlfriends? And at one point have you ever seen him with a _guy_? No, mate, he’s straight.”  Even he’s aware he’s a little ‘off’. He does believe what he’s saying but there’s a tiny little internal voice eagerly piping up asking him if it’s okay to maybe start doing a bit of a jig, and keeping that voice suppressed is actually taking up a lot of resources.

So yeah, not at all surprised at the return of the familiar expression of gentle mockery on Matt’s face.

“Mate, you don’t sound like you’re doing a great job of convincing yourself let alone anyone else in the room! My question is how the fuck could you, a gay, not know your fucking wank material was a gay as well!”

“He’s not! I’d fucking know if he was!” And that’s the rub, isn’t it, because if Matt’s right – he isn’t – for Liam _not_ to know, to be around Zayn and not _know_...

So, no, he is definitely not gay!

Matt’s shaking his head, regarding him the way the dinner ladies used to regard the guys choosing the salad or veggie option at school.  “Mate.”

“What? You’re not even gay and yet you’re suddenly the authority on all things lgbtq just cos you’ve sucked a cock or two?” He’s getting a little ticked off but knows it has very little to do with any of what he’s just said.

Matt stares at him. “Did you just say lgbtq?”

“Fuck off!” He throws himself back on the sofa, snatching up the remote to change channels, definitely annoyed, but not really with Matt.

Okay, yeah with Matt.

What gives him the right to say something like that, without proof, without so much as a courtesy  heads up?

Zayn is not gay!

Unable to express his displeasure in words he glares at the television, making a point of ignoring Matt, who he can feel staring at his profile.

Eventually Matt breaks the silence. “Mate, what’s going on?” A light touch on the knee. “Tell Uncle Matt.”

“What, to fuck off? Consider yourself told, ‘Uncle Matt’.” He doesn’t even know why he’s even trying to make Matt feel bad. Matt’s not one to take on unwarranted feelings of guilt and in this case will definitely not be feeling any type of guilt.

No, _he_ just feels stupid; thinks he looks stupid; thinks Matt certainly thinks he’s stupid and would really like to fucking find a way to feel better about all of the above.

Matt continues to stare at him before giving up and turning his attention to the TV, too.

But again he’s the one who eventually breaks the silence: “You gonna tell me about it?”

“Why should I? You haven’t said anything about William, which, may I remind you is the precise fucking reason you’re over here in the first place, so...” He feels better after that because that’s right, isn’t it? Somehow Matt’s turned everything on its head, made it about him rather than just spilling whatever embarrassing secrets he’s seemingly intent on holding to his chest.

He can tell by the increased tension in Matt’s frame that he scored with that one, but Matt doesn’t respond for a long time, which ironically leaves _him_ at a disadvantage because when he’s not talking or listening to Matt that fucking little voice seems to think that’s its green light to start capering, dancing all kinds of foolish jigs...

What right does this stupid voice have to decide that Zayn’s gay, though? Just because this stupid voice will never suffer the consequences of jigging, that doesn’t give it the right to put shit thoughts in Liam’s head, surely...

Time to drown it the fuck out.

 “Look, it can’t be that bad.” He hopes he’s sounding suitably sympathetic, understanding – empathetic? “So, it’s a bloke. Wouldn’t be the first time. Why the fucking secrecy?” Oops! Well, no-one can say he didn’t _try_.

“Me? I’m not the one actively telling porkies just so as not to admit to whatever the fuck you’ve got going on with this guy!”

Well, that is true, but he knows Matt, recognises avoidance when he sees it, so won’t take the bait – not this time (plus, any opportunity to turn it back on Matt rather than talk about Zayn...)

“But you invited your fucking _self_ over here to talk about this bloke and ever since you’ve been here all you have fucking done, Matt, is _not_ talk about him, tie yourself up in knots to _not_ talk about him, so what gives?”

It’s an unwinnable contest for Matt because these are inarguable facts, but since he’s Matt, he has no intention of conceding defeat.

Well, neither does Liam.

Matt won’t spill, so neither will he.

But why the fuck does Matt think Zayn isn’t straight?

Because that was no joke – he hadn’t been joking when he said it.

And Liam really fucking needs to know why he thinks he isn’t straight, because ‘not straight’ could cover and mean so much...

Plus, regardless of what Matt thinks, his gaydar hasn’t been proven to be infallible (well, they’ve never put it to the test under _laboratory_ conditions, but still) so Matt isn’t the arbiter of all things straight or gay (though, arrogant sod that he is, he probably wouldn’t say no to the title).

Obviously a big part of him would like to believe Matt knows what he’s talking about, it’s just that a bigger part of him refuses to buy into that, aware as he instinctively is that thinking such thoughts would test his sanity in major ways.

Zayn’s such a difficult, complex bastard that it’s actually better – for his sanity – to regard him as off-limits. Anything else would just be buying trouble and having got the point where he’s just about learning to handle his attraction to Zayn, introducing this new wrinkle into the mix is just crazy.

So yeah, he’s just going to pretend Matt hadn’t said that and yeah, refuse to say or admit a damn thing until Matt spills his beans  about William.

So, Matt can ask and ask until he’s blue in the face but until he gives something _first_...

And this decided he relaxes completely, satisfied that the unwinnable contest has just turned in his favour...

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

**

 

The thing about unwinnable contests is that unwinnable is not a word Matt understands.

All that evening he does everything he can think of to get Liam to talk about Zayn.

First thing is to get to Liam to admit it’s Zayn, which is easy – Liam has no intention of ever doing that.

Matt, for someone who professes an aversion to ‘this guy’s caterwauling’ is surprisingly knowledgeable about all things pertaining to Zayn, enough to almost lull Liam into a delighted trance in which guards and inadvertent truth bombs might be dropped.

But what Matt doesn’t understand is that after 10 years of being a male fan Liam has honed his reflexes, making it almost impossible for him to be caught out.

It’s a bit of a surprise (well, it would be if you didn’t know Matt) that Matt even remembers or even _knows_ he’s a Zayn fan as accomplished as he has always been at hiding that fact.

Even Zayn isn’t aware he’s an avid fan.

His mum comes closest to sussing him out but even she isn’t aware just how much of a fan he is.

He is basically a ninja when it comes to hiding his status as a Zayn superfan, so Matt has no chance.

The only way Matt will get anything out of him is by doing what he clearly doesn’t want to do.

And for now, Liam’s fine with this.

Yes, he wants to know about William, but not wanting Matt to know about Zayn supersedes that by some distance, thus an unwinnable contest...

 

**

 

“You still okay coming into the office, spending a couple of hours-?“

“Hours? So I _am_ working for you then.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. One fucking hour then. Happy? I think taking my kid to work would be easier!”

“Like you’ll ever have kids!”

“Like _you_ will! Try getting some girl to be stupid enough not to use a double strength pill before sleeping with you for a start and then getting into any sort of long term relationship. Mate, _I_ stand a better chance of having kids than you do and I sleep with blokes!”

Matt clearly wants to come back, but since he can’t find a convincing counter argument, contents himself with pushing past him and heading for the stairs.

Liam grins to himself.

 

**

 

The meeting with Mercedes goes exactly how Liam expected it to – Matt all charm (he’s at his best with older women), Mercedes delighted by his charm.

They get on like a house on fire and Liam suspects that far from giving it 90 minutes (for politeness sake) and then spending the rest of the day in town he’ll find Matt there when he returns.

He barely gets any type of acknowledgement as he takes his leave, both of them intent on flirting in between what seems to be some serious exchanges involving boring and complex admin and sales jargon.

Well, okay then.

That’s good, right?

 

**

 

He returns later expecting one of two things – they’ll have exhausted the flirtatious aspect of their relationship and will be all business; they’ll be so comfortable with each other the banter will be flying back and forth like no tomorrow, lowkey annoying the fuck out of him.

But apparently there was one scenario he _hadn’t_ accounted for.

Mercedes isn’t in the office. It’s Matt and _Javon_ in the office, and if he thought Matt and Mercedes had been flirtatious before it is nothing like what’s going on right now.

He’s almost rocked back by the thickness of the tension in the room.

Javon is leaning again the window, dressed in his usual GQ model attire, watching Matt with an intensity that makes Liam almost swallow his tongue.

Matt for his part is staring right back, saying words that do have meaning, but are completely contrary to the look in his eye, the language of his body.

Liam’s been unfortunate enough to be witness to Matt in full on predator mode (or Mr. Chalmers as he likes to call it), but it’s always been with women and this, this is wholly different.

Obviously Matt uses different techniques with men and women and Liam supposes _he_ used to do the same, it’s just that it was never such a conscious and practiced thing with him as it clearly is with Matt.

With Matt and women it was always – you are delighting me; I am so entranced by you, could we maybe go somewhere so I can appreciate this effect you’re having on me?

By contrast, Liam translates whatever message he’s sending to Javon as basically: let’s go fuck right now.

Javon’s message is less clear, because Javon is a complicated guy, quite prickly, very suspicious, so he’s probably still trying to suss Matt out.

Liam would like to tell him to steer well clear of Matt, but that’s not his business, is it?

“Hey, Javon, wasn’t expecting you today.”

Javon reluctantly pulls his gaze away from Matt, and Liam’s pleased to see the way his face lights up when he sees him, the way the smile is reflected in his eyes. “Hey. No, I was in the area, so I thought I’d see how Mercedes was doing.” He turns to Matt. “Was introduced to Matt, here.”

“Hi, mate.” Matt’s grinning at him, and there’s a look in his eye that Liam does not appreciate. It means he is scheming and intends to involve him in whatever he’s cooking up. Past experience says that this does not bode well for Liam’s peace of mind.

If the scheme involves getting Javon into bed, Matt’s out of luck!

“Yeah, Matt’s visiting from out of town. You’re based in Bristol now, aren’t you, mate?”

No, he doesn’t appreciate that one little bit and Liam knows he is going to pay for it later. “Actually, no, that was just temporary, mate. I’m back home.” He looks at Javon. “To stay.”

“Well, I’m sure the missus will be relieved to hear that, eh? Which one is it? Lucy? Or is it Gemma? I forget.” He’s being a pig, but no way is he going along with any of his schemes. After everything Javon’s done for him, no way is he going to let Matt fuck him around. And he will fuck him around. Liam might not know Javon very well, but he can suss people out sometimes, in certain ways, and he can tell this guy is not the type to fuck around, so the last thing he’d need is a Matt to mess him about.

Matt is furious and bewildered and furious...

He will definitely be getting an ear full later, but be that as it may.

“Mate, you wanna talk for a bit in my office?” He nods to Javon, walks to his office door, ignores the daggers being sent his way.

“Sure,” he says, smiling, and accepts the invitation, not even glancing at Matt in passing.

Before he closes the door, Liam meets Matt’s furious gaze and shrugs.

 

**

 

They don’t get into it until they’re in the flat.

They drove separate cars that day so didn’t have the opportunity on the journey home.

Now, however, now the confrontation can be put off no longer.

Well, it has to be Matt since Liam isn’t the one with steam coming from his ears.

He did absolutely nothing wrong and isn’t in a confrontational mood at all.

It was nice spending time with Javon, even though all he wanted to do was talk business.

Liam’s noticed that about him – he seems to be one of those people who have to compartmentalise to properly function. Should he and Liam be at a social event he’d probably not mention business even once, but since he was there to talk business, business is what he talked, and that’s okay.

Liam is starting to get him, and he quite likes that he’s like that.

He doesn’t think he and Matt would get on at all, and he’s going to protect him from Matt – even if it makes Matt want to punch his lights out.

“What the fuck was all that, back there? You know fuck well I’m not seeing anyone, so why-?”

“Oh? Not even William? Thought you was seeing William.”

He has no idea why Matt’s surprised; the fuck is he surprised about? Why did he think Liam said what he said; just for shits and giggles?

The change in Matt’s demeanour is so pronounced it worries Liam a little, making him feel a frisson of guilt for bringing William into it. He had to, of course, but maybe there are things he’s missing. Matt _should_ have told him, but still...

“Mate, what is it? I didn’t mean to- I mean it wasn’t my intention to-“

“He’s back in the States and I don’t know when I’m gonna see him again.”  He looks completely deflated, every ounce of indignation, of fury replaced by blank misery.

Liam has never seen him like this and quite honestly isn’t sure what to say or do.

Maybe beer will help...

 

**

 

“I’m sorry, mate, that’s a bummer.” It’s inadequate, but he honestly doesn’t know how words will help since Matt isn’t the type to derive comfort from words.

“We never promised each other anything – was supposed to be a one night stand, but we spent every day together since that night and well, I think I kinda fell for him.” He looks so broken Liam’s instinct is to wrap both arms around him, but doesn’t.

Matt might be displaying a side Liam’s never seen, but he is still Matt and Matt doesn’t appreciate displays of affection – not like that – so he sits on his hands and instead does his best to radiate sympathy, support.

Matt’s looking at him, an unusually serious expression in his eye. “I know your guy’s Zayn and no, hold on, mate, I understand why you don’t want to admit it or talk about it. Thing is, I’m sort of in the same boat.”

Liam’s puzzled. “How do you mean?”

“I’ve sort of been a fan of his for a while.” He’s looking away now and... blushing? “I saw him in a bar and at first I couldn’t believe it was really him, so I pretended not to recognise him and somehow we got talking. I soon admitted I knew who he was – I couldn’t not – all the while knowing it’d probably ruin any chance I might have had. I’d sort of suspected he was into guys, but until I saw him in that bar, had no concrete evidence. Obviously he’s in the closet and that’s part of what’s making this so fucking hard. I have to be content with what he can give and he lives in the fucking States! I mean, doesn’t even bloody _travel_. Him being here was a once in a lifetime thing, and it’s just so bloody hard, mate. So fucking hard.”  He falls into silence, practically wringing his hands in his frustration and Liam puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, certain he can actually _feel_ the pain radiating from him.

The thing with Zayn, painful as it’s been at times, is nothing like this.

Having yet not really having?

Must be hell.

“So it’s sort of over?”

“Nah, mate. I could probably handle that, but we text and facetime. It’s basically a long distance relationship and you know fuck well how I feel about those!”

Yeah – “only a mug would do it”.

Poor Matt.

But is William playing him, though?

“Don’t take this the wrong way, mate, but this guy – he married? You said he was in the closet...”

“No, William’s not that type, but he’s big in the NFL and we all know how many openly gay guys there are in the NFL.”

Liam almost wants to say – “It would have to be a fucking sports star, though, wouldn’t it?” If he’d really thought about it, of course it would be a sports star he’d fall for.

Honestly how had it only just now occurred to him? “What position does he play?”

The look Matt gives him is a deservedly sceptical one; Liam wouldn’t know a tight end from a rear end or a point guard from a linebacker. He’s into sports, just _proper_ sports! “Don’t ask which team he plays for, but he’s a wide receiver.”

“So he’s African American then.” That’s about the only thing he knows about American football – quarterbacks are white and wide receivers aren’t.

Matt rolls his eyes but doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.

Liam isn’t aware of _every_ guy Matt’s dealt with; he just knows that none of the ones he’s aware of have been anything other than white.

But Matt is a darker horse than he ever imagined when it comes to his secret life fucking other guys, so for all he knows the majority of the guys he sleeps with are black. “Would I have heard of him?”

“You’ve seen him a few times. I used to talk about him a bit.”

Well, that’s the thing – he used to switch off whenever Matt talked American Football.

His interest is piqued now, though.

“So I could google him?”

“Obviously; he’s a superstar.”

Well, that could just be Matt’s dick talking. Still... “So what’s his surname?” He’s turning on his phone, ready to discover Matt’s lover.

Has no idea why his excites him so much.

“B.L Harper.”

Oh. _Oh_. Wow! Even _he’s_ heard of this guy. “That’s William? Is William the name he uses in gay bars?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “No, that’s his fucking name. The B stands for Billy which is short for William. Duh.”

Go on, find some images.” He’s looking and sounding all excited now, like he hasn’t googled the guy a thousand fucking times, seen every single image a thousand times...

“Okay, calm down, calm down, all in good time. So then... Wow, he’s pretty... flexible...”

“Don’t even. Go on...”

And he goes on, image after image of a guy he had no idea was so good looking, for while he’s heard the name and seen him in action he’s never actually seen his face until now, never seen him in a suit till now and he is _stunning_ , can totally see how and why Matt was a fan and would willingly make an exception for him (except by then, unbeknownst to Liam, Matt had been making an exception for a boatload of guys, hadn’t he?).

Liam assumes that the phrase ‘I’d turn gay for him’ was made for guys like B.L Harper (and Zayn).

Only _Matt_ would take it to the nth degree because Matt doesn’t know how to do things by halves, does he?

“So, you’re in love with him,” said casually, so as not to spook him, because he can tell for all Matt’s happy now looking at images, the pain is there, hasn’t gone away.

Matt doesn’t reply at once, busying himself with Google.

Liam does the same, allowing him time, though by now he thinks he knows what his answer will be.

“I think you know what it’s like. You go in with this idea of them and maybe it’s an inflated, false idea of who they are, but it’s there all the same. And then you get to know the real guy behind the legend and you are fucking blown away by how much _better_ the real flesh and blood person is, how genuine they are, how humble and funny and intelligent and decent they are. You know what they say about never meeting your idols? Well, I’d have to agree, cos sometimes it makes you want what you can’t have even more than you did when you had no chance of touching it, being with it.” His sigh is gusty, heartfelt. “I wish I’d kept him at a fucking distance.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t, no, but what the fuck am I meant to do with all this? I’m off work because I needed the break, man. I was going crazy thinking about him, thinking about never seeing him again. If I’d never met him...”

“I know, but what you had with him – it’s changed you for the better, mate. Even I can see that. So can you really regret that? I know it hurts and everything, but would you really change it? Really?”

Matt’s eyes are closed, shoulders slumped, but he doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Would you?”

Liam’s surprised by the question, but he doesn’t need to think about his answer. “No, not for all the tea in China. It’s been hard, not gonna lie, but it’s also given me some of the best moments of my life. I’ve felt things I never thought I’d feel, gone through a ton of growth in a short period of time; made some huge mistakes, but the time spent with him, around him has been the most fucking amazing thing ever. _He’s_ amazing, and no he isn’t perfect the way I used to think he was. He’s _better_ than perfect – he’s real. So no regrets, no matter the outcome.”

Their eyes meet as a growing understanding blooms between them.

And though they’ve been friends for a long time it somehow feels like it’s only now, at this precise moment in time, that they truly, truly understand one another.


	22. Chapter 22

 

 

 

Matt doesn’t mention Javon again – until Friday.

Though Liam didn’t expect him to and certainly never asked him to Matt elects to accompany him to work – well, as far as the office – the following day.

Neither of them speak on it, which is in itself pretty telling; but they’re at the point where they’re treading a little more carefully than they normally would, aware of each other’s fragility, aware also that there are many, many subjects they’re avoiding and well, probably better that way.

So Liam doesn’t ask why he’s so keen to go to the office and Matt doesn’t whinge about being forced to work for Liam.

Great; works for him, for Matt too, by the look of it.

But he’s more than happy to leave Matt in Mercedes’ capable hands, even happier to see there’s no sign of Javon and no indication he’ll be ‘popping into the office’ at any point that day.

Of course Javon’s a law unto himself and may well find an excuse – or possibly have a genuine reason – to do just that, but Javon’s a big boy and now that he and Matt have reached an understanding Liam feels just a little less fraught about it all.

But it does appear that whatever hard on Matt had for Javon has either dissipated or is being kept under strict control.

Either option suits him just fine.

 

**

 

Matt’s meant to be back at work, in his own job, at his own place of employment by the coming Monday, yet he appears to be worryingly comfortable making no discernible plans to leave Liam’s space any time soon.

Well, Liam’s okay with this – they have always been good at domestic co-habitation the few times they’ve tried it – so it’s not that.

What it is is Matt obviously avoiding stuff he isn’t ready to deal with, because not only is this not like him,  it’s also not healthy – Liam can personally attest to that - so while he’ll allow him one more day, if, by Friday, he isn’t showing any signs of going home, well, something will have to be said.

 

**

His mum phones him that Thursday, suggesting they leave the trip to Worcestershire (which he’d have to admit is something he’d been looking forward to, yet hadn’t really been sure how to _handle_ ) for now and to come for Sunday lunch instead.

He’s more than happy to do that and though he says very little about the postponed excursion, does plan to interrogate her about it (possibly about Zayn, too while he’s at it...)

After all, if you can’t interrogate your mum about your crush, what is the point of even having a mum?

 

**

That’s it, though, isn’t it?

Your bestie refuses to talk about his love interest; you push and push till the floodgates open and then ...you live to fucking regret it...

Apparently this William Linwood Harper is the guy who pretty much invented pretty much fucking _everything_ good in this world.

He certainly invented sex if Matt’s to be taken at his word.

Liam can’t even take the piss out of him the way he wants to because he has never seen Matt like this and the truth is he doesn’t even know _how_ to burst his bubble the way he’d routinely have done in the past without feeling like an actual, full on dickhead.

Is it love, though, or simply infatuation?

It sounds way too over the top to be love and the way Matt speaks of him...

Pretty much the way he’d have sounded had he ever allowed himself to talk about Zayn the way he’d have wanted to, and the thing is he can honestly say (now) that what he felt for Zayn back then was certainly infatuation, definitely not love.

Still, is that really fair to Matt?

Matt has never, to Liam’s knowledge, been in love, so could be that this is _exactly_ what it looks like for him.

And maybe it’s a fact that the more you experience love the more accustomed you become to the way it feels, the way it makes _you_ feel.

So, could be that’s all it is – he’s had more experience of the intensity of emotion associated with falling and being in love, so over the years has become a bit cynical.

And yes, that could be it, it’s just that he never, in a million years, thought he’d ever have to deal with this Matt, and maybe it’s only natural it’s taking time to adjust.

 

**

Mercedes introduces him to the new manager.

He’s openly gay, but clearly Liam is not his type.

While Liam obviously couldn’t stipulate that the manager was to have zero sexual chemistry with him, to definitely not find him distractingly attractive, but if he _could_ have that’s exactly what he’d have stipulated.

He’s been in situations (come to think of it he’s in the midst of one with a customer who appears to think he’s an architect, a builder, a prostitute...) like that before where there was unwonted attention from co-workers (or bosses’ wives) and would really rather not be forced to experience anything like that again.

So Stephen’s polite once over then filing away in a box clearly marked – ‘not to do list’ – made him like the guy possibly 10 times more than he might otherwise have done.

Stephen reminds him a little of Javon in his cool efficiency, in the single minded attention to the task at hand and he’s reminded how seriously Javon’s taken this, how well he’s been looked after (he suspects Javon chose Stephen personally). Understanding that these people actually fucking _like_ him makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, which isn’t something he’s experienced often in his life, and though he won’t say anything right now, there’s no possibility of him taking any of it for granted.

He’ll definitely have to make sure he gets Mercedes something special before she leaves, Javon, too.

But it is going to be so weird adjusting to never seeing them again.

And no, it’s true he doesn’t really know either of them _well_ , yet their absence already feels like a wound that’ll take time to heal.

So ironic that this would happen to him; the man who doesn’t easily warm to people, the man who takes an age to make friends, trust people.

Of course, rightly or wrongly, he blames Zayn for this change, only to be brought up short a moment later by the realisation that he might also have to adjust to never seeing _him_ again either.

He honestly isn’t sure what the status of their relationship is right now and though it was his intent to be a little more proactive in pursuit of an actual friendship with Zayn he isn’t feeling quite so bullish at the moment, so god knows what he’ll actually decide in the end.

Zayn just really confounds him most of the time – even when he isn’t there, even when he hasn’t actually done anything, anything at all, so he honestly cannot even trust his own mind and intentions in this.

Zayn has the capacity to make him nervous as hell, and well, none of his friends have that capacity so maybe _that’s_ what he should be paying attention to, maybe rethink the friendship thing, maybe grab a modicum of courage from somewhere and think about actively pursuing him.

Matt has no doubt Zayn’s gay: ‘mate, have you actually _looked_ at the guy? He doesn’t act straight, look straight, play straight. Geezer absolutely fucking _screams_ gay to me. Can’t believe you’ve stood face-to-face with this joker and still thought he liked pussy. The guy sucks cock – trust me on that one! Hmm, guess maybe you’re just not his type...’

And though Liam isn’t entirely convinced (is afraid to believe it) a part of him urges him to put it to the test.

Perhaps his conviction Zayn was straight got in the way, maybe prevented him picking up on the signals Zayn was sending his way.

Unless, of course, Zayn’s gay, just not gay for _him_ , the way Stephen isn’t gay for him, the way Matt isn’t gay for him, the way Javon isn’t gay for him.

Fuck! Is he just not attractive to men?

 

**

 

“Not my type. Look, I fuck guys – not _every_ fucking guy with a pulse and a decent sized cock-“

Of course only Matt would feel that the addition of a decent sized cock would have nay bearing on the conversation. “He is way too fucking blond! Also, too prissy. Can’t stand that type of gay – he’d probably want to brush his teeth after going down on me, probably wouldn’t even wanna French kiss. I’ve made the mistake of fucking around a time or two with one of those queens and never again.”

“Matt, don’t take this the wrong way, but how many guys have you actually fucked? I only ask because anyone listening would swear I was the straight, but curious one and you the ‘gay’.”

Matt shrugs. “Can’t help it if you take the term pansy _literally_. I mean, if you were content to just fuck without  the need to also have ‘feelings’ you’d be better off.”

“Ah, like you, you mean.”

Another shrug. “I have fun. See a guy who looks worth the punt, I give it a punt. Not really regretted any of them yet. Obviously some I’d never give a second punt – _most_ of them to be honest – but that’s because I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, and I feel keeping it strictly one night stand-ish let’s them know where I’m coming from.”

“Yeah, Planet of The Dicks.”

“Guilty as charged. Look, they’re not girls –no-one’s getting his feelings hurt, especially not after I’ve fucked him into oblivion – oblivion spelled with a B-L-I-S-S.” He makes not even a cursory attempt to dial down the smug. “We’re blokes – even _gays_ are just blokes – and we know the fucking score. Guys like you on the other hand...”

“Yeah? Guys like me...”

“Are idiots.”

“Thanks.”

“And I can say it since I allowed myself to be you for a second and ended up where I am right now.”

“You are seriously blaming me for William.”

“I am, cos if I hadn’t spent way too much time knocking around with you I wouldn’t have got myself  infected...”

Liam stares at him with unfeigned incredulity because even for Mat this is just a little rich. “You would rather still be fucking around, going from boy to girl to girl to boy, only interested in dipping your wick, no interest in actually getting to know someone, make a relationship with another person...”

“Er, yeah.”

“Bullshit!”

“And where do you get the ratio of boy to girl from? What you basing that on?”

“I’m glad you brought that up, because I’m starting to think that you only _pretend_ to be straight, that you’re actually pretty fucking gay!”

He expected a reaction from Matt, just not the one he got.

Grinning, Matt taps him patronisingly on the knee. “Took you long enough.”

 

**

 

“Mate, I actually know you a lot better than you think.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And?”

“And you fancy him.”

Liam shrugs. “I have a decent pair of eyes in my head, so yeah I can see how attractive he is. He’s a friend, though.”

Matt snorts. “Pull the other one. You fancy him.”

Since arguing with Matt is a mug’s game... “Okay, yeah, I fancy him. Happy?”

“So you, therefore, acknowledge that you can be in love with someone and yet fancy the next bloke without that affecting your feelings for the bloke you’re with.”

Might have fucking know it’d be something like that. “That is a whole other subject, mate, and me and you we are never gonna see eye to eye so let’s not even go there.”

“You are really sat here trying to tell me that you expect me to never have sex again?”

Huh? “Why would I ever say anything as stupid as-?”

“Cos, I have no idea when next I’ll see William and there is absolutely no way I’m always going to be satisfied with just having phone sex!”

Liam rolls his eyes. “God forbid anyone should ever malign your character that way.”

“We have talked about it and we’ve agreed that it’d be unrealistic for us to be faithful when there’s no chance of us seeing each other this year.”

He’s trying to be blasé but Liam can see he is far from blasé about this.

Hmm, maybe time to tread a little more carefully.

“I see your point. Well, if it’s something you’ve discussed, don’t see the problem.”

Mat’s smile is a little tight, doesn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Exactly.” He turns away, staring at the TV, knuckles white where’s he’s gripping the remote control.

Liam has no idea what Matt wants him to say, but clearly he doesn’t really want him to agree that he should sleep around, which is a concept so foreign to his idea of who Matt is...

Oh. _Oh_. Is it more that if they’ve discussed it then presumably William, too, has the green light to sleep with other people? Is that the _real_ issue, here?

“How would you feel if I were there when you FaceTime him? I mean obviously you okay it with him first.”

Matt stares blankly at him. “How do you mean?”

“I mean I’d honestly like to ‘meet’ him – you know what I mean. If you think he’d be uncomfortable with someone else knowing about you two...”

Matt’s stare turns pensive. “Hmm, not sure he’d mind. He’s closeted, true, but he’s not paranoid or self hating. If I trusted you he’d trust you, too. And in case you were wondering, yeah, I trust you.”

As far as Liam’s concerned that might as well have been an effusive declaration of love, and for a moment he finds himself lost for words.

Lately he’s been shown so much love, in subtle, wholly unexpected ways, that surely something has to give; surely something has to go wrong – spectacularly wrong.

 

 

**

 

“Again, don’t take this the wrong way, but do you have a thing for black guys? Only asking cos Javon and obviously William.”

“Two fucking guys, mate, out of _how_ many?”

“Well, clearly that isn’t a question I can answer. I’m the one who thought all you’d ever done was give a bloke a handjob once in a blue moon. Who the fuck am I to answer questions about your preferences?”

Now it’s Matt’s turn to roll his eyes. “The fuck? Anyone would think I’d been deliberately misleading you about stuff.”

“And you haven’t?”

A casual shrug. “Not deliberately.”

“Accidentally?”

“Sort of. Look, I kept giving you clues, but you kept brushing them off. The fuck was I supposed to do?”Just fucking come right out and tell me – you know, like a normal person would.”

“Well there you go then.”

“What?”

“Not a ‘normal’ person, am I?”

At this point Liam decides the conversation has run its course, grabs the remote from Matt and finds a sports channel.

That’ll shut him up for a bit, at least.

 

**

 

Apparently, Mat and William usually converse once a day - for a ‘few’ hours.

Matt says he’ll bring up Liam’s question during that night’s call then let him know the following morning what William decides and Liam has to content himself with that, already aware that a no is going to   feel a lot more like a rejection than it really should.

He’s never been great at handling rejection, but lately he’s been particularly sensitive.

Though he doesn’t know B.L. Harper the way he knows, say Wayne Rooney, he’s very aware of his celebrity status and though he’s not a fan is still aware that he’s treating it very much like meeting _any_ celebrity. Talking to him one to one is going to be interesting, especially as the only reason he actually wants to talk to him is to try to gauge the status of his feelings for Matt.

Liam isn’t entirely sure how he’ll be able to accurately judge or even what business it is of his _to_ judge. All he knows is that it feels necessary, somehow.

Confident as he usually is in Matt’s ability to protect himself no matter what, to put number one first no matter what, he also knows what happens when you allow yourself to fall in love, and he supposes a part of him wants to see how William looks at Matt, how he smiles at him, talks to him.

FaceTime isn’t the best way, but at least it’s _something_.

Besides it’s going to make it all seem so much more real once he’s seen him in action so to speak, so he silently prays that B.L. Harper will see fit to say yes.

 

**

Matt deliberately drags it out that Saturday, waiting until they’re eating lunch (he cooked) to let him know William’s looking forward to meeting him that evening.

“Says he wants to find out if you’re as much of a dick as I told him you were.” He glances up, sputtering with laughter at Liam’s expression. “Relax, mate, I told him what a good bloke you were. Don’t worry; he’s gonna like you.”

“Well, yeah. Since he likes you and you _are_ a dick, even if I _was_ a dick he’d probably like me, too.”

“This just in: William is partial to a dick or two – hold the fucking front pages!”

“Whatever, dickhead.”

 

**

 

“Haven’t seen your mum for ages. How is she?”

Liam gives him a suspicious look, reminded that Matt is still here and has said not one word about ever returning home. “She’s okay. Was meant to be taking her out today, but we had to postpone.”

“Shame, I’da loved to have seen her.”

He’s seemingly intent on scrolling his Instagram, but Liam knows him too well to fall for that.

“You wanna come for Sunday lunch?”

Matt puts his phone to one side, smiling in what appears to be delighted surprise. “Ah, Mate, that’d be brill. Love to see Geoff again too – and the girls.”

“No chance, mate – the ‘girls’ won’t be there.”

“Shame. I have a soft spot for your sisters.”

“Steady on, mate. You need not ever think about, let alone _talk_ about having any kind of spot for either of my sisters.”

“Hey! I only said-“

“And I’m saying don’t!”

Matt makes a show of biting back his words, pursing his lips, falling just short of making the zipping motion.

Liam ignores him, debating with himself whether or not to bring up the ‘you ever fucking going home any time this century, mate?’ subject.

Timing’s a bit off, but it’s Matt, who can see through him at a thousand paces anyway.

Subtlety, any kind of finesse is wasted on this guy, so...

“When you planning to head back?”

“Sunday night. Got to, haven’t I? Start back Monday morning.” The sigh is heartfelt.

Liam never got the impression Matt didn’t like his job, but there’s a new sort of ennui about him, maybe even in relation to his work...

“You okay with the job?”

A disinterested shrug. “It pays well.”

“But you’re not feeling it.”

“Doesn’t stretch me.”

“Look, I haven’t worked things out yet, but it’s possible I might be able to offer you something at my place.”

Matt’s head turn is sharp, the expression on his face the wrong side of positive. “I don’t really get on with the Queen in the office.”

“Mate, you met him for 5 minutes, barely spoke to him!”

“In my job you have to sum up people and situations dead quick-!”

“You’re a salesman, not an MI5 operative.”

“Clearly you have never been in a sales meeting.”

“Clearly you have no idea what you’re on about, but if you’re gonna let a 2 minute meeting decide your future for you then you’re probably not what I’m looking for in any case.”

And it is with immense satisfaction that he catches Matt staring at him as if he has never seen him before.

What, did he think, owning a business was just a form of words? Did he _really_ believe he was soft as shit in business?

Well, maybe working together might be good for both of them because yeah, now the idea’s in his head he knows Matt’s the best possible person for the job.

He has seen him in action and as sales men go he is almost certainly in the top percentile – he just, as he rightly says, hasn’t ever really been stretched; doing things by numbers, in his sleep, because it’s so easy for him.

And it’s not like what he’d be doing if he worked for Liam would be especially hard; just a matter of him learning the business, selling to a different kind of customer.

What might be hard would be working with Stephen who definitely has an eye and a nose for a rotten apple and sussed Matt for who he was right off the bat. To be fair the antipathy was mutual, yet something tells Liam it’s nothing that can’t be overcome - if they’re both willing - and since their jobs might well depend on it they’d better be willing.

But he won’t mention it again, will wait until Matt approaches him for further details because he’s fairly confident that going back to work will be the deciding factor in his decision to stay where he is or test himself with Liam.

He’ll consult Mercedes or Javon. Well, it’ll probably be Javon since he seems to be the actual one in charge.  It might even be that offering Matt a _job_ is the wrong thing to do and a consultative role might be better.

No, he’ll definitely need to consult with Javon, which he’ll set up some time next week – after Matt expresses an interest.  And he knows Matt’s interested, he just has a tendency to be a little lazy at times, a touch complacent.  Things have always come way too easily to him and he’s just a little spoiled right now - he definitely needs the added stimulation, if only to take his mind off his love life.

Thus, having talked himself into offering Matt a consultant sales manager role he decides it’s way past time to relax, enjoy what’s left of the day, maybe gird his loins for the FaceTime session with B.L. Harper.

 

 

**

 

The first surprise is William’s accent.

Obviously he never asked Matt where William was from – he’s African American so obviously he’s going to have a Southern accent, be all polite and courteous.

Well all preconceived notions are blown out the water the first minute he hears them conversing.

William is as far from Southern charm as one could get and still be in America.

Liam would be the first to admit to not being particularly adept when it comes to accents, but even a small kid living in a village in Mongolia would recognise this accent.

He’s well spoken, articulate, but his accent is very strong. Obviously Liam can’t identify which _part_ of New York he hails from, but that it’s definitely New York is not in question.

And though he looks sort of shy, a little reserved in images, the reality of him is as far from shy and reserved as one can get.

Not to put too fine a point on it the guy is basically the American version of Matt!

Why the fuck had he assumed he was Mat’s _opposite_?

He sits to one side listening to them going at it.

At first he absolutely cannot imagine them in bed until he realises just how narrow-minded he’s being, how narrowly he sees the world, people and situations outside his direct experience.

He has always seen Matt in a certain way and though that’s slowly changing he’s still, _clearly_ still, holding fast to certain perceptions of him – and by extension his relationship with this man.

He’s not used to seeing Matt as anything except aggressive alpha and it takes way too long for him to adjust, enough for him to miss vital clues in their exchanges as to the reality of their attraction, trust in and love for each other.

He’s still trying to get his head around it when he realises Matt’s trying to attract his attention.

“Mate, this is William. Will, Liam.”

“Hey.” His smile, which Liam’s seen numerous times in Google images is even better live and direct. The light brown eyes are in even greater contrast to William’s dark skin tone and his sexual magnetism hits Liam like a punch to the solar plexus. William, for his part, makes no bones about giving him a slow once over even as he’s greeting him with a practised but pleasantly intimate charm, and Liam, god help him, minds not one little bit.

“Hey. Heard a lot about you (a bald faced lie). You couldn’t possibly live up to your press!”

His laughter is deep, unforced. “Honey, don’t make me invite you to put that to the test!”

Yep – American Matt.

Liam glances at Matt – can’t help himself – knowing how _he’d_ react in a similar situation.

Matt’s rolling his eyes, not at all bothered.

Well! But is that why they work – because they don’t do jealous or possessive?

God, that would drive him absolutely fucking mental!

Actually observing William face to face Liam knows fuck well he wouldn’t be able to trust him around other guys, and has to again wonder what the fuck is going on with Matt.

But come to think of it he has never seen Matt jealous; it’s just that till now Liam imagined he never had cause to be, fucking around as he was intent on doing. Yet he claims to love this guy, be crazy about him, need to be around him, yet seems not to care that William fucks around with impunity?

What kind of relationship is that?

He makes a conscious effort to push that to one side as he engages in banter with first William then Matt, then all three of them, back and forth, taking shots at each other, till an entire hour passes without notice.

In the end it’s the phone ringing that reminds him he’s intruding on this couple’s alone time so he reluctantly takes his leave of William, still not sure about the stability or potential longevity of the relationship, only certain that he really likes him, likes what he and Matt have going on.

He doubts it’ll last, but Matt’s happy and that’s all that matters.

It’s his mum on the phone, reminding him to return her casserole set and since the opportunity’s presented itself he secures Matt a lunch invitation.

Of course he has the sense to hold the phone well away from his ear just before she screeches in delight.

His mum is no more immune to Matt’s snake charmer ways than most women (of a certain age) and it’s been some time since she had that pleasure, so yeah.

Matt’s actually incredibly clever when it comes to the wielding of the charm - must be so, since even his sisters like him and they have liked not a single one of his other friends.

He’s fairly sure Ruth has a crush on him, which, had she ever come right out and confessed it, he’d have done his best to discourage: no sister of his would ever be allowed to suffer the indignities of falling for a dickhead like Matt.

Yeah, Matt might be his best friend, but he is a dickhead, utter menace to womankind, and there is absolutely no fucking way any sister of his...

 

 

**

He tries to stay up so Matt can interrogate him about William, but they’re still on the phone at 2 and he simply can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

He later hears Matt at the door, but he’s too tired to stir and as he falls back into slumber is distantly aware of him quietly pulling the door to.

 

 

**

 

“Mate, you know how much she cooks. You won’t have any room!”

Matt bites defiantly into a slice of toast. “Lost a ton of nutrients last night – if you get my drift. Protein, mostly,” he adds, unnecessarily.

Liam makes a face. “I do, unfortunately, and for future reference that’s not something you need share. I’m quite content for you to keep that entirely to yourself. And fuck’s sake what if I was eating?”

Matt laughs, face alight with happiness and Liam turns away, careful to hide his smile. Okay, yeah, he likes seeing his friends happy. Big deal. Not going to fucking _tell_ him that, though, is he?

He might be gay – apparently hey both might be – but they are still bloody guys!

 

**

“Got a bit of a personality, that one.”

Liam doesn’t reply; if Matt insists on translating Loki’s dickhead ways as ‘personality’ then far be it from him to set him straight. In time he’ll learn, but if it makes him feel better to spin it some other way, he won’t stop him.

Loki, either way, will continue to not care, continue to be a dick, so yeah.

“I usually stay till the evening, but I’ll drive you back to pick up the car and the rest of your stuff,” he tells Matt as they settle in the front of the car.

“No worries, mate, not gonna take me long to drive home, so stay as long as you want.”

“Nah, I got stuff I need to do, too, plus mum’s probably gonna try to get us both staying over so best you let it be known upfront you have to get back before the sun rises.”

Another chuckle, probably because he recognises that the exaggeration is really not much of one.

The only reason Matt loves his mum so much is because he isn’t her bloody child. Swap places and the fond amusement would turn to something else entirely – guaranteed!

There’s a brief period of silence as they wrestle with their own thoughts, but Liam’s waiting...

Yeah, here it comes.

Pretending to be intrigued by the music system, Matt casually asserts: “William’s not what you were expecting, is he?”

Liam, having been waiting for this since last night, can’t help but silently congratulate himself on the fine job he does of pretending to mull the question over.  “Not sure why you’d say that, mate,” he sallies.

“Mate.”

They know each other just too fucking well! It is a pain in the arse, it really is. How the fuck is he meant to hone his acting skills when this joker can see right through him without even having the decency to read his body language or anything. The fucker isn’t even looking at him!

“Okay, yeah, he probably isn’t what I was expecting, not that I really had any expectations.”

“You lying prick! You think all black Americans sound like they just stepped out of Forrest Gump!”

“Fuck off. I am not that fucking ignorant.”

“You fucking are! You expected him to sound like Nelly!”

This is so outrageous he takes his eye off the road for a moment to show his displeasure, even more annoyed when he sees while Matt’s still not looking at him, the wideness of his grin says it all.

“Oh just fuck off, man.”

This sends Matt into peals of laughter, loud and protracted enough to make even Loki raise his head for a second.

Clearly phone sex is the equivalent of crack for this joker.

Luckily Liam will never again find himself in a position to be witness to the sordid aftermath.

His mind absolutely refuses to take the opportunity to imagine what the heck phone sex looks like for them.

And really, the sooner he gets Matt back where he belongs the sooner he’ll have a chance of resuming his normal, uneventful life.

Can’t bloody wait.

 

**

 

“You look like a model, Matthew. Didn’t I say, Geoff, that Matthew could easily be a model? Not in them catalogues. I mean them that walk them runways.” She’s squeezing Matt, grinning up at him and Liam wonders how it is that women just don’t understand that _they’re_ the ones responsible for creating the monster Matt has become.

Way too much unironic praise; way too much gaping, and excuse me while I touch parts of your body whilst still pretending to be all motherly about it.

Or is it that they could sense all along this joker was gay?

_He_ still isn’t convinced Matt’s gay.

He certainly wasn’t being _forced_ to sleep with those girls, except Liam doesn’t actually have evidence he ever actually slept with all the girls Liam assumed he did (well, assumption isn’t quite it, since Matt, from his own filthy mouth _told_ him he did).

Maybe all he means is that he wants to be with William, so for now gay is his preference?

Sod it, he doesn’t know, and right now isn’t sure Matt will give him the straight, to the point, answer he’s looking for.

It’s just so confusing, because while _he’s_ been confused for years when it comes to his sexual preference, his identity, _Matt_ never has and no, Liam honestly doesn’t think he’s been pretending; hiding his confusion under the pose of confident heterosexuality.

He quite honestly does not get Matt at all, wants to, yet will admit he isn’t quite ready for that conversation, not when the thing with Zayn’s also so damn confusing.

Why the fuck can’t people just make it clear who they are and what they like? _His_ life would be made so much easier if people would just be a little more considerate.

“Your mum must be so proud of you.”

Liam, rolling his eyes, checks out at this point, heads for the kitchen - the fridge.

Any other friend he’d worry about, do his best to rescue.

Matt? Thrives on this sort of bullshit, so yeah.

 

**

For some reason Liam expects his mum to bring up the house hunting in Worcestershire, momentarily forgetting that Zayn is a thing they share in a sort of open-but-not-quite secret.

It’s like an unspoken understanding that that’s their thing, a thing they’re careful about openly sharing with the others.

The others are aware, just not privy to the reality of the depth and nature of their fannish interest.

It’s strange that he’s never really thought about it that way before, but the fact that she doesn’t even mention the postponed excursion tells him a great deal about his mum, and though he pushes it to the back of his mind as their day progresses, he can _feel_ it there like a quiet, persistent hum.

It reminds him that she has knowledge, knowledge he has no idea how she acquired and even now he’s still baffled as to why she’d even have any interest in obtaining such knowledge, knowledge about Zayn.

But again, if he can’t pick her brains about Zayn what is the point?

Trouble is he can’t really do it in this setting. If Matt wasn’t around he could probably catch her in the kitchen, offer to help with the cooking. Still could, except Matt would insist on helping, wouldn’t really be content not to be around them both, and the last thing he wants is for Matt to get any more caught up in the Zayn thing than he already is.

He never, ever, _ever_ wanted Matt to know about Zayn, but because someone up there hates him he does know about Zayn, but god willing, that’s where it’ll end – for now, at least.

Matt really does not need to know the extent of his _mum’s_ fannish interest in the guy. 

Liam’s life, should that ever become known, would simply not be worth living.

Even the thought of it, the thought of Matt and his mum talking about Zayn makes him go hot and cold all over.

He can’t even articulate how unbearable this turn of evens would be, just instinctively knows it would.

But maybe his mum wouldn’t be even that forthcoming, even with Matt. She has so much respect for Zayn and his privacy it’s possible she’d be reluctant to share any of it with someone who wasn’t a fan.

And that’s another of the strange things about their fannish interest in Zayn – they know not to share him with those who don’t share their love and interest, so yeah, maybe he should worry less about his mum and more about his inability to hide anything from Matt for any length of time.

 

**

They’ve completed their meal, Matt and Liam insisting on washing up, spending most of their time reminiscing about the old days and how stupid they used to be; reverting back as is often the case to the times when they were happiest in this house.

It’s been years since they’ve been here together, but the memories are still bright and comforting, handily reminding them of what they share at core; reminding them also that though the love and respect they have for each other may alter, even look a different way now, it is essentially still the same.

Liam’s reminded how whenever he’s away from him for a  period of time he tends to forget all this, forget all the things he loves about Matt and recognises that this says more about _him_ than it says about Matt or the true nature of their friendship.

One thing he can say about Matt is that he has never given Liam cause to ever question the genuine nature of their friendship; that he’s never really actually changed since they met, where Liam has changed pretty drastically over the years; questioning not only his identity, but pretty much everything in his life.

Matt’s been constant throughout, so much so that it’s only now Liam realises that Matt acted as the rock for him, effectively allowing him to chop and change yet always feel safe.

He’d taken that all for granted, not realising what that even was until now.

Well he never expected to find himself being so introspective at his mum’s house, so used to slotting into a way of being, here, accustomed to donning an accustomed pose – banter, exasperation, love.

And he’s acknowledging a whole new aspect to his mum, seeing all the things she does to make him feel loved, and god help him some of that – apparently -  extends to Matt, too.

It’s exhausting though, feeling so much, and he certainly doesn’t protest when the men retire to the lounge to watch Sky Sports, more than happy to exchange introspection for banter and shit talking.

They’re just getting into it when the doorbell sounds.

“I’ll get it!” his mum shouts from upstairs and he and his dad exchange a look. They’d made not even the slightest motion to rise and the look is to acknowledge that they should possibly feel guilty, but that they really don’t.

Matt’s just engrossed in the match, probably hasn’t even heard the doorbell.

Loki’s got his ears pricked, but is still lazing in the corner, happy as Larry. And why wouldn’t he be - fed to bursting, spoiled to ruin as he’s been?

His mum shrieking like a banshee has him and Matt jumping to their feet, accompanied by Loki, tail wagging like crazy, huffing a series of barks, looking from Liam to the door, then back gain, clearly telling him to get his arse in gear and go!

Of course he’s too startled, too distressed to even pay him attention, so pretty much misses the in retrospect, obvious signs.

His heart’s galloping, fists clenched, ready for battle, terrified for his mum, himself...

Soon as he wrenches the door open Loki leaps past him, barking in delight, hurling himself at the guy hugging Liam’s mum, who just happens to be carrying the biggest fucking bouquet Liam has ever seen in his life.

He’s conscious of Matt, standing beside him, as confused as he is, but not quite...

“Fuck me!”

Okay, he gets it.

His mum’s still squealing, holding on for dear life as she rains kisses all over the guy’s face.

Zayn for his part, accepts the kisses with delight, smiling a smile Liam has never seen before and as their eyes meet, evinces not the slightest jot of surprise to see him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Book One


End file.
